Cursed by a Veela
by O'Faolain abu
Summary: On her trip to France Hermione Granger stumbles upon a curious place and trespasses on a fairy circle, gaining her the Veela's Curse.
1. The Fairy's Circle

Prologue: The Fairy Circle

On that clear summer night every street she walked down lead her towards something new and wonderful. She had no real destination. As said by Lewis Carroll, "If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there." Well, Hermione Granger certainly didn't know where she was going but it seemed every street led her where she wanted to go. After spending the whole week with her family touring Marseille, France her parents wanted a date night, leaving the fourteen year old witch to her own devices. She had scoured the east side of the city, finding interesting cafés, parks, clothing stores, book shops and other cultural locations. She carried at least three bags worth of new fashions and books, each in colorful bags with different store logos. It was like an adventure to the bushy haired witch. While she knew the excitement was hardly that of her adventures with Harry and Ron, this adventure was all her own. She didn't have to filter herself for Ronald's sake or constantly worry over Harry's well being and council him through his latest crisis. It was liberating in a way, being separated from them.

This applied even more so with her parents. While Hermione loved them dearly spending a massive amount of time in the magical world put a damper on her relationship with her mother and father. Just as she did with Ron the young witch was forced to filter her magical opinions and thoughts while in the company her parents. It was the small Freudian slips that set her parents off, like, "I think that man just confundused that shopkeeper" or, "That is _not_ what a mermaid looks like" or even, "Mom, have you seen my wand?" It never failed to cause a moment of awkward silence before her mother hastily moved to another subject. They really did try to understand, but her parents treated her magical education as some sort of phase instead of an important part of her life. Whenever her future was brought up they expected her to become a dentist or a doctor, and not a magical doctor, but a normal one, perhaps going to school in America. Hermione never deigned to comment on her future. She was too young and wanted to enjoy this time in her life, learning new things day by day and make the decision later. It was reasonable excuse that didn't crush her parents' hearts and allowed her the necessary time to consider her options. She couldn't imagine how distant their lives would eventually grow when she took on a magical job, living in the magical world for her entire life instead of just nine months out of the year.

A flickering lamppost caught the fourteen-year-old's attention. Hermione halted, suspicion causing her body to stiffen and her blood run cold. The paved sidewalk had detoured a few yards, heading into a forested area. At first she was excited by the idea of taking a stroll through a forest at night. Now she regretted the romantic impulses. The bushy brunette could _feel_ irregular magic nearby as she drew her wand. She had to keep a level head when using it, but if there was danger nearby Hermione would rather be reprimanded for using magic outside of school than caught off guard. Years of knowing Harry taught her to be vigilant to say the least. She still couldn't erase the image of Professor Lupin as a werewolf out of her head. The lampposts continued to flicker off and on as Hermione took in her surroundings. There was no one in sight. The road curved ahead, hiding behind the thicket of bushes and trees.

She wasn't paranoid. She knew magic when she sensed it, but this magic was so different. It wasn't channeled or restrained at all. No witch or wizard could emit this kind of energy. A magical creature perhaps? Hermione cursed herself for not researching France's native magical creatures before leaving England. What if it was an invasive species though?

After a few moments of silence the young witch regarded the still environment as safe, though the lights continued to waver uncontrollably and out of sync. It was eerie but her nervousness was replaced with curiosity. If she could just follow the flow of magical energy, then perhaps she would find the source. Normally magic wasn't this sensual but Hermione could literally _feel_ this strange and oddly vigorous energy. The only hesitance she had was that the energy seemed to be coming from the woods, off the paved road. If she looked back, the teenager could see the lights of the shopping centers she had come from. Perhaps their light could guide her back. Her decision made, Hermione took her first few steps towards the woods, brushing passed a few prickly bushes.

The further she traveled away from the main road the more palpable the magical essence became. It made her skin tingle and her hair stand on end. Usually this was nothing extraordinary, her bushy hair uncontrollable; however every hair on her body was affected, feeling acute and aware. As unnerving as this was Hermione persisted.

After she had trekked a few yards the young witch came across a black fence with a notice stating: "Propriété privée." She once again hesitated, staring at the sign for what seemed like hours. Her rational side knew it was mere minutes, but the chill down her spine affected her thinking process. She couldn't go any further. Private property. Her French was rough at best, but she recognized the two words. It would be illegal to go within the fence's confines.

Perhaps Harry and Ron had become a bad influence on Hermione, for at that moment her only reaction to the illegality of it all was, "but I want to." She mumbled this under her breath, as if not wanting it to be heard. The young witch stared at the fence, hypnotized by the tantalizing temptation. She knew Harry and Ron would have no hesitation…and that magic, she could just _feel_ it. It was so close, the answer to her mystery. Her mystery. This was _her_ adventure and she'd be damned if she let it end because of some silly sign. Mustering that famous Gryffindor courage, Hermione tucked her shopping bags near an odd looking tree and advanced towards the fence. The climb was a struggle. She wasn't the most fit of her age group. Her lack of upper body strength definitely stalled her, but with a little perseverance and a well planned technique Hermione was over the fence.

Hermione kept her wand aloft and tight in hand. She could literally see her arm hairs standing on end. As suspicious as she was the young witch couldn't bring herself to claim this magic was malevolent in any way. The strange essence seemed more of a pleasurable drug. Not in the sense of dulling one's senses, but rather it gave Hermione a giddy alertness. It was like caffeine, tuning her senses rather than negatively affecting them. It made her feel alive.

Her heart only beat faster as she spotted a clearing up ahead, her breath catching in suspense. She felt the magic stronger than ever as she inched towards the small meadow. The waxing moon illuminated the small glade, catching the wings of fireflies and other insects buzzed about the grass. They, like Hermione, seemed comfortable in the strange magical presence. Hermione didn't particularly like bugs, but her slight entomophobia was forgotten as her gaze lowered. The grass beneath her trainers formed abnormally, the blades curling in a peculiar manner. She knelt down, running her hand over the soft curls. Curious. It was most definitely a sign of magic. The phenomenon rang a bell, but she couldn't think of where she had read it.

"Pardon?"

Hermione jumped to her feet and sidled a nearby tree at the sudden voice, her wand poised. Her eyes surveyed the clearing, but paused on a still form in the distance. There, across the clearing, sat a young woman at the base of an odd tree. At the distance Hermione couldn't make the stranger out, but the voice was strikingly feminine.

"Y'a quelqu'un?"

Usually anyone questioning a stranger's presence in a dark forest would sound frightened, or at least nervous, however the young Frenchwoman appeared neither. Her voice was smooth and confident. Hermione leaned a little away from the tree, debating whether to reveal herself. She was on private property. This girl could possibly be related to whoever owned this property or she could be trespassing, just like Hermione. She shouldn't take the risk. Just as the young witch considered leaving the girl across the clearing stood, striding away from her tree.

"Je sais que vous êtes ici. Dois-je chercher pour vous?"

That didn't sound encouraging. Moving would give away her position and the girl appeared rather athletic. Hermione couldn't simply outrun her. She could see the young Frenchwoman clearly now, the stranger having moved to the middle of the meadow. The moonlight shined on light blonde hair, the gold strands flowing gracefully in the slight breeze. Tall and thin, the young woman's bright blue eyes scanned the glade for any disturbance. She wore simple clothing, a light blue hoody with matching sweatpants.

Hermione figured she couldn't very well sneak away while the Frenchwoman was so adamant on locating her. With a sigh of defeat, the young witch pocketed her wand and stepped away from her hiding place. The girl struggled over brushes and vegetation, stepping into full view as those startling blue eyes found Hermione's brown. The young woman took a moment, observing her with an unreadable expression. Hermione wondered if she had chosen wisely while the Frenchwoman's eyes wandered her approaching form.

"Un enfant?"

"I most certainly am not a child!" Hermione responded brashly, heat rushing to her face. "I mean- What I meant to say is- I apologize, I- You don't even know what I'm saying, do you?"

"Zomewhat" the young woman responded in a thick accent, smiling in a way that took Hermione's breath away. Hermione was surprised by her own reaction. Certainly the girl was beautiful, especially when she smiled, however that hardly called for such a response. Hermione regained her bearings, poising herself with coolness and brushing away the flustered thought. "Eenglish, hmm?"

"Yes," Hermione began, watching apprehensively as the woman drew nearer. That smile…"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you. I'll just take my leave-"

"Non" The Frenchwoman interrupted, "Zere iz no need. I am" the stranger pondered the correct word for a moment, "interezted as too what you are doing 'ere."

"I was merely taking a walk."

"And a climb?" The blonde smiled knowingly as Hermione's face flushed in embarrassment. "Zere is a gate around zis area."

"So you do own this property" the young witch said in defeat.

"Oui" she held a hand and gestured behind her, "My family's estate iz in zat direction. Ze woods iz ours as well, zo we do not 'ave many visitors. But you 'ave yet to tell me what you zeek." The strange beauty now stood a few feet away, observing Hermione. She didn't know how to respond. How to explain that she was following a strange magic emitting from her family's property- wait- Hermione's eyes wandered down, landing on small white flowers. They followed a predestined line, leading them behind a tree and out of view. The ring of flowers, the curly grass-

"This is a fairy's circle." The Frenchwoman's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sudden announcement. "That explains the strange aura, the flowers, the curly grass, the unusual behavior of the insects and-" her train of thought was interrupted when a small, feminine giggle escaped the blonde's lips. She watched in confusion as that small giggle erupted into a full on fit, the stranger covering her mouth as her body shook. "And what is so amusing, might I ask?" Hermione exclaimed hotly, bewildered by the reaction.

"Pardon, pardon" the girl attempted to voice through her hand, "you are a very, uh, interezting intruder."

"Not as interesting at the hysterical girl sitting in a fairy circle all alone at night- wait. You- you're the fairy." The blonde smiled in response, tilting her head as she continued to eye the young witch.

"Oui. Why not come clozer, young one? Come," she commanded, offering her hand. Hermione hesitated. From her research fairies were, no matter what subspecies, notorious tricksters. Her thoughts of suspicion went unheeded however. Before she could halt her movements her fingers brushed against the palm of the mysterious fairy. Hermione marveled at the skin, so soft to the touch. Her hand was engulfed by the young Frenchwoman's and she began leading Hermione further into the fairy circle.

"W-what kind of a fairy are you?" She felt foolish for stammering, but if the blonde noticed she didn't give indication.

"I am a Veela. One-fourz, but Veela all ze same."

"Veela? I've never heard of them."

"Oui. Veela are, 'ow do you say, zecretive." They settled on the other side of the glade, near where the young Veela was situated before. Without warned the young witch was pulled into the Frenchwoman, a hand ensnaring her waist, the other still holding her own hand hostage.

"What are you doing?" Hermione exclaimed, startled as the Veela began swaying.

"Do Eenglish girls not dance?" The question was playful but Hermione huffed, as if insulted.

"Yes English girls dance, however hardly with strange Veela who have yet to properly introduce themselves." Despite her claim she couldn't help swaying as well, following the taller girl's lead. It was unlike her to simply let things be. Her ever inquisitive mind never halted in analyzing every aspect of a situation. It had saved her life at times, but for some reason Hermione simply allowed the dance. It was fun, friendly and spontaneous, much like her current company. If only she could get rid of that smirk…

"Per'aps ze intruder should introduze 'erself, hmm?" Hermione just released another "humph!", turning her head away from the blonde. The only response she received was another musical laugh. "My name iz Fleur." She looked up into those blue eyes, taking in the information in a moment of silence before responding,

"Hermione. My name is Hermione."

"Zat is beautiful" Fleur smiled before scrunching her nose, "very Eenglish…but beautiful." In that moment everything stopped. The swaying, the speaking, even the fireflies seemed to disappear. Hermione merely stared at this beautiful, odd girl. She felt no shame in her stare, no awkwardness in their close, stilled embrace. Her only instinct at that moment was absorbing as much information on the Frenchwoman before her. Her high cheekbones, her heart shaped lips, her small curved nose, the way her dimples formed at her smile, the way her hair parted around her face - every detail she could memorize Hermione made note. The blonde's thin neck, her defined collarbone, the light blue hoody she wore, even the girl's scent that reminded the young witch of roses. Something about this girl, this mysterious Veela, intrigued her. Hermione had never felt so drawn to a single person before. She wanted to ask so many questions: about the strange magic, the fairy circle, who her family was, what she was doing here alone, what being a Veela meant, why her face was suddenly so close-

"What time is it?" Fleur halted her movements, startled by the sudden question. What time was it? Through all of her questions, that was the one that escaped her lips. Hermione looked at her watch and gasped. It was already eleven. "Oh no. It - it was only nine-thirty-"

"'Ermione?" Fleur spoke her name and Hermione made note of it. How it rolled of the Frenchwoman's tongue, how her accent made it sound so-

"I have to go."

"What?"

"I have to" she backed away from the blonde, looking around for the direction in which she came, "my parents- oh Merlin, my parents! They must be so worried! I'm sorry, I have to go!" And with that she took off. Fleur called after her but Hermione continued on. She ran through the woods and she felt it - felt the wonderfully strange magic slip away from her - felt Fleur slip away from her. The transition made her feel weary and tired. She made it over the fence and found her bags, sprinting towards the main road. She had almost made it to the hotel when she tripped on the curb. That's where it all began.


	2. Bad Luck

Thank you very much everyone for the wonderful reviews. They are extremely appreciated. I love feedback, so anything you guys want to mention would only help improve my writing.

Also, I had an interesting review from an anonymous reviewer commenting on the location of the first chapter, saying Marseille wasn't a proper place to set the story and that there were better towns to use in southern France. Now, for this fanfiction I'm going to keep using Marseille just because it was already established, but I was just wondering if this reader, or any of you who might now the area, could suggest a more suitable town in southern France? I was going to use the same location for a novel, however if there is a better choice I'd love to hear it!

Anyhow, here's the second chapter. It's short, but never fear, they only get longer.

I hope you enjoy the chapter and have a nice day,

O'Faolain  
>_<p>

It began with that little stumble outside the hotel. Her bags went flying and she landed face first onto the sidewalk. Just a few scraps and bruises. It was little things: the flight attendant spilling ginger ale on her lap, forgetting her favorite book in the hotel, accidental paper-cuts. By the time she arrived at the Weasley's her hands were covered in band-aids. Mrs. Weasley gladly healed her scrapes, however as the summer wore on her 'accidents' increased in effect and number. She fell into the Weasley's pond, broke all of her quills, spilled ink on a book, bumped into random objects _constantly_, and even managed to rip a hole in her new jeans in the most embarrassing place possible. It all began seeming suspicious when she sprained her ankle not once, but _twice_ on the stairs. That's why Hermione now made it a habit to inch her way down the steps, gripping the hand rail like her life depended on it. When you sprain your ankle _twice _in one week, one tends to remember the pain. Harry and Ron watched as she descended the stairs in this fashion, just in case of emergency.

"Alright, 'Mione?" Ron asked hesitantly, waiting for disaster.

"Don't be ridiculous Ron" she snapped, taking another careful step.

"We can help-"

"I am perfectly capable of getting down stairs, Ronald!"

"Yeah, you've proven that time and time again!"

"Ronald Weasley-!" Hermione gasped as she took a step, only to feel nothing beneath her. Next thing she knew the young witch was at the landing, dull pain in her shoulder and head. She opened her eyes to see Harry and Ron above her.

"Hermione! Are you alright?" Harry grabbed her arm, helping her up and to the couch.

"I am bloody well alright! I am perfectly fine, thank you!"

"Dears, did Hermione fall down the stairs again?" Mrs. Weasley yelled from the second floor, "Does she need another healing spell?"

"No, thank you !" she huffed before Harry could respond for her. With much prodding Hermione was able to get the boys back to their game of Wizard's Chess. Ron was about ready tear out his hair.

"I don't know what to do with you anymore" Ron grumbled, moving his pawn only for it to be captured by Harry's tower.

"Excuse me?"

"Every since you got here all you've been doin' is falling over and harming yourself." Hermione did her best to maintain her temper, picking up one of her many books to distract from Ron's reasoning. "You've been here two weeks, 'Mione! You can't even move without bumping into something. It looks like Harry and I beat you!"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry my physical injuries are reflecting badly on you and Harry. I'll put more effort into keeping all bruises in concealable locations."

"Oi, you don't have to get all mad. I'm just saying, alright?" Hermione glared at him, but knew he hadn't meant for his comments to hurt.

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired of this! I'm at my ropes end. And it hasn't just been at the Burrow, Ron. Though those accidents were nothing compared to the recent ones."

"Maybe you're jinxed?" Harry suggested. She just shook her head, the idea preposterous.

"Really Harry, who would jinx me?" Hermione asked agitatedly, not bothering to look up from her copy of fourth year transfiguration. "And before you say Malfoy, Ron, I haven't been within fifty feet of him since school ended last year. As frustrating as they are there is no logical explanation besides concluding they're just coincidences." Even as she said it, the young witch didn't believe it. Perhaps it was her frustration with the situation, but there was something unreal about these 'coincidences'. Maybe it went with having to feel the pain of spraining the same ankle twice in one week, or having a whole bookcase fall on you. She just couldn't put her finger on it, but there had to be a rational-

"Maybe it's just bad luck" Ron said absent mindedly before moving his knight, putting Harry into check. "You'll get over it eventually, right?" Hermione's eyes shot up, her stunned stare fixed on Ron. Bad luck? Where had she heard that phrase before?

"Say that again."

"You know, bad luck- Damn it Harry!" Ron exclaimed as Harry effectively saved his King. Hermione didn't hear him though. Her mind began buzzing. She tossed her transfiguration book to the floor, shuffling through her other books scattered across the divan.

"Hermione, something wrong?" Harry questioned. She ignored him until she found what she was searching for: _Fairies and other magical creatures_. "That's the book you bought at Diagon Alley, isn't it? The fairy book?" Her eyes skimmed the section, her stomach plummeting as she read. Harry left his game and sat next to her, reading over her shoulder. "Fairy circles?"

"Oooh, don't want to go near those, mate" Ron said, staring intently at the chess board, "Bad luck entering one of those-" The red head went silent, slowly raising his shocked face to the busy haired witch. "'Mione, you didn't…"

"Hermione, is this way bad things keep happening to you?" The young witch ignored both boys once again. All she could think of was that warm night in Marseille, dancing with Fleur. She had felt so adventurous, so spontaneous, she just felt-

"Stupid" she growled, shaking her head in disbelief. That Veela was the one. Harry took the book and read aloud:

"Fairy Circles, also known as Fairy Rings, are the result of fairy magic that affects the surroundings of the fairy in question. The archtype of the circle depends on the particular fairy emitting the magic, but all share similar traits: curled blades of grass, a circle of flowers, flower depends on the topographic location of Fairy Circle, and an aura that differs between fairy sub-species…Hermione, is this-"

"Yes, all right?" she snapped, "Yes, I walked into a Fairy Circle."

"What? When did that happen? Hermione, how could you?" The young witch shot the red head a glare. Ron wasn't helping her frustrations, though if there was one thing Ron was good at it was irritating her.

"It was in France, alright?"

"Did you see the fairy? What kind was it?" Before Hermione could answer the question Harry piped up, holding the book in front of her.

"The book gives ways to get rid of the bad luck, but it depends on what fairy you met."

"I've already read it." Hermione released a sigh of defeat, "Though I didn't make the connection until now. The girl I met was a Veela. The only cure the book lists is to consult the Veela whose circle cursed you and I don't believe I have that luxury."

"A Veela" Ron said in wonderment, "How was she? What'd she look like?" Hermione shifted her head away from the two, hoping to hide the uncontrollable expression of confusion crossing flushed face.

"I-well- she was-" tall, mysterious, alluring, playful, intelligent, sarcastic, spontaneous, "and-and she-" spoke with her, walked with her, danced with her, made her feel special, made her feel- "It doesn't matter it-" those blue eyes- "She cursed me!" Hermione exclaimed, shifting her furious gaze to Ron. "She cursed me and you want to know what she looked like?"

"It was only a question-"

"Well you go trotting in a Fairy Circle and see for yourself! As for me I'm going to find a way to rid myself of this 'Bad Luck'. Oh, it doesn't even explain what sort of magic it is!" She collapsed next to Harry on the sofa, the boy still gripping her book on fairies. "How am I to find the counter curse?"

"Maybe we just need" Harry paused, shrugging his shoulders, "salt?" Hermione lazily shifted her stare to Harry, her energy drained.

"Salt?"

"Yeah, that superstition that if you have bad luck you toss salt over your shoulder to get rid of it." Ron crinkled his nose, his instant reflex to confusion.

"I've never heard that."

"Harry, that's a muggle superstition. I don't know if it applies to magical situations." He looked disappointed, mumbling a small 'sorry' before slumping back onto the couch. Hermione gave him a smile, patting him on the arm and leaning her head on his shoulder. "Thank you, but I think at this point my only real solution is impossible. All I know about her is her name and that she lives in Marseille. No, what I need to do is lower my risk factor."

"Risk factor?" Hermione gave Harry a nod.

"Yes. You see, the discourse of 'luck' is mere probability. Say I chose to leave my room. That increases my chances of being physically injured. Why, even opening a book inevitably will boost my chances of a paper cut."

"Hermione, you could never _not_ open a book" Harry laughed.

"Geez, 'Mione!" Ron suddenly exclaimed, rounding on the young witch, "What about the Quidditch World Cup? You can't _not_ go to the Quidditch World Cup! What'd are you gonna become, some recluse?"

"I've said nothing of the sort, Ron! I will merely be taking precautions until I've figured a counter-curse. But now that you mention it perhaps the World Cup isn't the best place for me. A wild bludger to the head isn't particularly appealing."

"Come on Hermione," Harry intervened, "We'll keep an eye on you. It wouldn't be the same without you." He smiled at her and Hermione knew she couldn't refuse.

"Well, I suppose not." The bushy haired witch couldn't stop the shy grin that crossed her face. Harry's insistence was flattering, especially since he was usually a rather passive boy. She couldn't deny that she wanted to go. Quidditch wasn't her area of expertise but she had watched Harry play enough to understand what took place. The idea of going to the World Cup was exciting in and of itself as an international event.

"Yeah 'Mione, you can't miss Ireland vs. Bulgaria! You'll miss Viktor Krum! We might even get to see the Wronski Feint! He's famous for that move!" Ron continued ranting, but Hermione's eyes dropped to the book still in Harry's hands. Fairies. Veela. The curse. She didn't know if she really believed it. It was a logical hypothesis, however she couldn't shake the memory of that night: the strange magic, Fleur in the moonlight, her eyes, her smile…Her short time with the Veela had been so nice. She could remember her laugh, her soft voice, that irrationally irritating smirk. What was strange was, sometimes in the night when she couldn't sleep, Hermione could have sworn she _smelt_ that night. The trees, the threatening rain in the air, even Fleur's fresh scent, all of those smells invaded her senses.

She didn't want to remember that night and regret her choice – that conscious risk to simply let things _be_. She had never felt such calmness in her soul. However, she knew she couldn't avoid the truth of her condition. Her theories were usually correct, whether she liked it or not, which meant she had been played. Fairies, no matter what sub-species, were known tricksters. It hurt to think of such things, but she knew it was true. With determination in mind and fire in her aching heart, Hermione took the fairy book from Harry and flipped to the section of Veelas. While it was lacking in content, it was where her research would begin.


	3. Of Veela and Leprechauns

Though she was persistent the young witch lacked the resources to investigate her condition in depth. She knew this before starting, but the reality of her hopelessness dawned when she had nowhere else to turn to for material. Her books and the Weasley's were lacking any real information. As the days went on her frustration grew. The only place that could have the answers was Hogwarts, a good few weeks away and well after the World Cup. Unable to find a counter curse, Hermione spent much of her time secluded in her room, avoiding household chores and the kitchen. All of those flying pans and floating knives - she didn't want to consider the possibilities.

She had yet to tell anyone of her stupidity involving the Fairy Circle, excluding Ron and Harry. Mrs. Weasley merely thought it was 'that time of the month' and Ginny, whom she shared the room with, left her to her own devices. Fred and George were too preoccupied with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to bother her. While she admired their ambition Hermione couldn't help but feel frustrated every time they tried to convince her to try one of their products. Eventually they let her be. Harry and Ron helped her when they could. They'd assist her down the stairs, gathered things for her and even keeping her company during her rather disappointing research period. Harry paid attention and Ron mostly ranted about the Irish. Apparently the Weasley's would be rooting for them at the World Cup. Another place with flying objects. Wonderful. Hermione didn't know which were more dangerous, flying knives or bludgers speeding eighty miles an hour.

Still, on that early morning walk to the portkey Hermione was just as excited as the Weasleys and Harry, speaking animatedly about the upcoming event. The two boys kept near, just in case. Ron kept rambling on about different Quidditch strategies and, to everyone's surprise, Hermione listened adamantly. Harry pitched in different commentary every now and then. It was a Quidditch event, so Hermione could tolerate the topic a little more than usual.

They marched up the hill, eventually meeting with Amos Diggory and his son, Cedric. Hermione found the older Diggory to be abrasive and rude, but all out of pride for his 'perfect' son. She didn't have much of an opinion on Cedric however, having never conversed with him. He didn't say much, but the Hufflepuff appeared more docile than his father. His blue eyes reminded her of Fleur, however there was more steel gray in his; far from the perfect shades of the Veela. Any thoughts of Fleur left her as soon as they found the portkey, a lumpy, old, smelly boot. She had only read of portkeys and was eager to experience the feeling of apperating for herself. The excitement didn't last long. All she felt afterwards was nausea and pain behind her navel.

By the time Hermione recovered they had made it to the camp grounds, an amazing sight in the young witch's opinion. Witches and wizards of all ages and nationalities were cramped together in one small space, all attempting to blend in as Muggles, some with more difficulty than others. Harry, Ron and Hermione even ran into Seamus Finnegan and his beady eyed mother on their way to collect water. His mother interrogated them thoroughly about supporting Ireland and complained about being harassed about her summoned shamrocks when the Bulgarians had their own magical decorations. The trio decided to take a look and found pictures of a young man in red Quidditch robes, stern and cross.

"He looks really grumpy" Hermione said, eying the pictures with a furrowed brow.

"Really grumpy?" Ron responded incredulously, with that tone that told Hermione she just, 'didn't understand'. "Who cares what he looks like? He's completely unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a _genius_, you wait until tonight, you'll see." It was clear to Hermione they held radically different definitions of the word 'genius', however she chose not to argue as they continued towards the tap. There was already a line and, apparently, entertainment for those standing in it. Two wizards, one an old man dressed in a flowered nightgown and the other a ministry worker, were locked in a heated argument.

"Just put them on Archie," the ministry wizard cried in exasperation, waving a pair of pinstriped trousers, "there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate's already getting suspicious-"

"I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old man stubbornly. "Muggles wear them."

"Muggle _women_ wear them, Archie, not the men they, wear _these_" the Ministry worker brandished the pinstriped trousers.

"I'm not putting them on," said old Archie in indignation, "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks." At this Hermione couldn't contain a fit of giggles, rushing to the bushes to avoid unwanted attention. She only caught her breath when Ron and Harry had gotten through the line and had the water. After seeing friends from Hogwarts and tripping over her jeans, Hermione, Harry and Ron finally made it back to the tent, the front of the young witch's clothes dripping. A giddy Mr. Weasley fiddled with the matches as the twins watched.

"Took you long enough" George stated as the three approached, "Hermione didn't topple any tents on the way, did she?"

"No, but she did spill the water" Ron grinned, earning an elbow in the side from the busy haired witch.

"It was an accident!" she exclaimed, huffing in indignation. Even though Harry and Ron were the only ones who knew of the Fairy Curse it wasn't difficult to discern she had gained an enormous amount of disorientation over the summer. Fred and George never missed an opportunity to make a glib jab.

"You might want to go and change your robes, Hermione." Ginny motioned for her to go the girl's tent. She followed, allowing Harry to assist Mr. Weaslely with the matches. With all the excitement Hermione's vigilance hand waned, earning her a few bumps and bruises when Harry and Ron weren't there to catch her. She really couldn't have asked for better assistance, both were very helpful. She'd probably have a broken neck by now if not for her mates, which only infuriated the witch.

Every time something happened she thought of the curse, every time she thought of her curse she thought about the Fairy Circle, and every time she thought of the Fairy Circle, her mind wandered to Fleur and that night she spent in the glade. Her logical mind told her it was a mistake, an absolute mistake to trust Fleur. She reprimanded herself daily whenever she received a paper cut, whenever she fell, whenever some random flying object would strike her in the head, whenever a bucket of water seemingly decided she looked dehydrated, she'd grow angry and regretful. But what she felt stronger than those horrible emotions was confused and hurt. She had enjoyed her time with Fleur. Sometimes she could still imagine the feel of her hand in the Veela's, the soft skin beneath her fingertips. Everything about the Veela haunted her, and Hermione wasn't sure if she wanted to let this feeling of yearning go. If she did, then it would be like that night never happened. She would never be that brave Gryffindor that had her own adventure, but the tame bookworm forced into being the logic behind Harry and Ron's crazy shenanigans.

That night the excitement in the air blinded Hermione once again as she, Harry and the Weasleys made their way to the Minister's box. For a while she worried herself over the height but Harry promised to keep her away from the edge. Once they were settled the trio playing with their omnioculars. Ron found this extremely amusing, especially when he found a middle aged man across the stadium picking his nose, forcing the image to replay again and again. After a long while the announcer, who sounded an awful lot like Ludo Bagman, announced the Bulgarian mascots making their way down to the field.

"I wonder what they've brought," Mr. Weasley said, inching to the edge of his seat. Hermione subconsciously did the same in anticipation. "Aaaah!" She heard him exclaim. Her eyes widened as one hundred beautiful women pranced onto the field. "_Veela_!"

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, standing and approaching the ledge of the box to get a better look.

"Hermione! Be careful!" Harry exclaimed, but Hermione ignored him. Just as Mr. Weasley said, the mascots were all young beautiful Veela. They began to dance and Hermione couldn't help thinking of Fleur. Their golden hair whipped around exotically without the aid of wind, their skin glowed without assistance of light and their bodies swayed smoothly through the routine. Hermione felt something she hadn't for weeks. Hope. If she could get close to these Veela, ask them for the counter-curse…A smile broke out on the young witches face as the Veela's dance came to an end. Finally! She had an opportunity to end this curse! She would just have to get past the Bulgarian team after the game and-

"Harry, what _are_ you doing?" She was snapped out of her epiphany as Harry caught her eye, one leg reaching over the stadium box and gazing dazedly at the Veela. Without a word Harry climbed down from the wall, accompanied by Ron who seemed to have gotten the same idea in his head.

All through the game the only thoughts Hermione could focus on were the Veela one-thousand stories below them, fighting with the Leprechauns. She only woke when the game was won by Ireland. The twins were ecstatic, having predicted that Viktor Krum would catch the snitch.

As the Weasleys and Harry began their victory march towards their tents Hermione slipped away, having planned a short detour towards Bulgarian team's tents. She considered asking Harry and Ron to accompany her, however her stubborn spirit wouldn't allow it. This was her adventure after all and she preferred to keep some of her rendezvous with Fleur a secret. She started this alone and was determined to finish it that way. It was easy enough to sneak away from Harry's side, being distracted with the Irish's celebration, and it wasn't hard to find the contrasting red and white tents to Ireland's green. She just kept walking until she found those banners with Krum's face plastered on every visible surface. The attitude around the camps was solemn, sore from the defeat. Hermione quickly hid her green shamrock, stuffing it into her pocket. It wasn't the time to gloat about supporting the winning team, especially after the terrifying display the Veela put on during the game. For a moment Hermione wondered if Fleur could transform like that, into a harpy like creature. But, if her memory served her correctly, the Veela had mentioned being one-fourth Veela. Perhaps this meant-

Sudden a large figure came marching from around a tent and into Hermione's path, knocking the unsuspecting fourteen year old to the ground with a yelp.

"Съжалявам" a deep, rough voice said calmly before a large, course hand appeared in Hermione's vision. She looked up to find none other than Viktor Krum, seeker for the Bulgarian team, standing over her, offering her his hand. With a huff of annoyance Hermione took it. He hoisted her to her feet with the strength of an athlete.

"For someone so dexterous on a broom I'd assume you would have more grace" the young witch snapped, dusting off her robes.

"I very sorry" Viktor said in a thick accent, bowing his head slightly. "I vas not looking."

"Well, nor was I. I suppose that makes us even." Hermione took a look around, seeing no sight of the Bulgarian mascots.

"Vat are you doing here?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you wanting an autograph?" Viktor asked, sounding a bit tired. "I'm sorry, ve cannot sign-"

"I'm not here for an autograph" Hermione interrupted, slightly annoyed by the automatic response from the seeker. It was obvious he had been asked that question several times. "I'm actually here to see your mascots. I need to speak with one of the Veela you brought with you."

"Veela?" the Bulgarian asked, not bothering to hide his surprise. "No vone comes to see Veela. Not vomen."

"Yes well, I have some questions for them…a summer research paper…" A slight smile crossed the seeker's face.

"Vould you allow me escort you? Least I can do avter making you fall." Hermione sent him a wary glance but found his awkward politeness charming.

"Alright then. Thank you." He gestured towards his right and allowing her to go first. They walked side by side. Surprisingly enough, Viktor wasn't uncomfortable company. He was rather quiet, perhaps from his difficulty with the English language, but every now and then Hermione noticed Viktor glancing at her before nervously averting his gaze. She wondered for a moment if there was something on her face, perhaps some dirt on her robes she hadn't gotten.

"The Veela are there" Viktor suddenly spoke, pointing to a red tent. "They are angry, so be careful. Vould you vant me to introduce you?" Hermione craned her head up to look at his face. He was rather tall.

"No, that's fine. Thank you for escorting me."

"Vait!" Hermione paused, looking back at the seeker. "Vhat is your name?"

"Oh." Her eyes darted towards the Veela's tents before once again facing the seeker. "Hermione. Hermione Granger." Viktor's blank stare told the young witch he had never heard such a name. Not surprising, considering it's muggle origin. She doubted wizards had any knowledge of William Shakespeare.

"Hermy-own" he attempted, cringing when he realized it was wrong.

"Her-my-oh-nee." Hermione didn't know where her sudden patience came from, but the shyness on Viktor's face touched her. He was trying, and that's what mattered.

"Herm-own-ninny?"

"Close enough" she smiled, waving goodbye before entering the Veela's tent. The tent, like all those camped around, looked small on the outside but on the inside the space could easily house the one-hundred Veela in luxury. Hermione suddenly lost whatever courage she had gathered at the sight of the women cluttering the tent. It reminded her somewhat of the girl get-togethers Lavender Brown loved to organize. Girls from all years would come and have one big girl's night in the common room, chattering and gossiping about boys, who's done what and nonsense. Hermione had attended once and swore never again, the constant high pitched chattering and sequels too much for her. The Veela behaved in the same manner as those girls, except most were ranting about the Irish winning and the Leprechauns. The Veelas closest to the door instantly noticed her. Their eyes made Hermione nervous. Oh balls. What if this entire tent was a Fairy Circle?

One Veela, surrounded by at least five others, watched her curiously for a moment before approaching, her white blonde hair flowing behind her, almost touching the ground.

"Попитахме да не бъде притеснявана." The Veela smiled at her, taking some of Hermione's hair into her long fingers. "Скъпи, трябва да се направи нещо с косата си.Това бедствие." The other Veela laughed at what Hermione assumed was an insult. She frowned at the Veela, stepping out of her reach.

"I'm sorry, but does one of you speak English?" The Veela's eyebrow raised in question before looking around.

"Ellis!" Hermione followed her gaze to a young woman speaking with some of the other Veela. She was surprised to see this 'Ellis' was actually brunette. "Някои английски дете.Моля, боравите с нея, нейният аромат отвлича вниманието на другите." The young brunette smiled and excused herself from her friends, making her way to a nervous Hermione. She was tall, a little shorter than Viktor.

"I've been asked to tell you you're distracting everyone." Ellis smirked, reminding the young witch of Fleur. Hers was infuriating as well.

"And how, may I ask, am I distracting everyone?" Hermione asked indignantly, huffing in annoyance.

"You're scent" Ellis responded, "You've been around another Veela, one that's different from these lot." Hermione stiffened at the sudden claim, looking around to see some of the Veela still eyeing her. "Definitely not from my gaggle either. You're English, aren't you?"

"Well I- yes, but how did you know I've spent time with a Veela?"

"Like I said, her scent's on you. You two most be…rather cozy." Ellis smirked once again and Hermione responded with a frown.

"I-Don't say that! You make it sound as if- I"

"Calm yourself! I mean no offense! But why are you here and where is your Veela?" Hermione sighed at the question.

"She's not _my _Veela. I came to ask about Fairy Circles. I have a curse on me and I need help ridding myself of it." For a fraction of a second Ellis' expression seemed neutral, as if she hadn't heard Hermione. But as seconds passed, the young witch realized she was frozen by the confession.

"You have the Trespasser's Curse? That doesn't make sense. Why would your Veela put that curse on you?"

"Why do you keep referring to her as mine? I had never even met the girl before." Some of the other Veela were now paying attention to the conversation, their expressions just as surprised as Ellis'.

"Vell, she must have taken a liking to you," A Veela sitting a ways away spoke, a thick Bulgarian accent hindering her English, "though I do not see vhy. Flat chest, a bird's nest for hair and buck teeth! The sex appeal of a troll!" Some of the Veela let out shrieks of laughter while others did not look amused. Hermione felt her insecurities bundling in her chest and she willed her eyes to dry. She would not cry. Not in front of this lot anyway. She was here for a reason.

"This doesn't concern you, ya arse!" Ellis exclaimed. She had about ten other Veela reinforcing this claim. "Come on miss, let's discuss this elsewhere." The brunette Veela went to guide her into a nearby room, but Hermione shook off her touch. She didn't need assistance. She felt vulnerable and unconfident, surrounded by hundreds of beautiful creatures, however the young witch refused to look weak in front of anyone. Ellis followed her into the mentioned room, which held a sitting area with red embroidered divans. Ellis, as well as two of her companions, sat on one of the sofas while Hermione chose a single chair. Another Veela suddenly entered, sitting the chair next to Hermione. She was the first to speak.

"I am sorry." This Veela seemed older than the others, though she hardly looked it. She was one of the many blondes and spoke with a calming voice. She sounded Bulgarian, however her accent wasn't as thick as Viktor's or the rude Veela in the other room, "While I do not believe in stereotypes, some of our kind are rather crude and arrogant."

"Straight up bitch more like it" Ellis commented, but this statement was ignored.

"My name is Albena." The blonde gave Hermione a smile, which she attempted to return. She wasn't sure she succeeded. "This is Raina and Zora." The two on the couch gave a small wave. "And the Veela with the bad mouth you already know." Ellis raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't dispute the older Veela. "You said you have contracted the Trespasser's curse, correct?"

"Yes. I was on vacation in Marseille and…stumbled upon it." Albena nodded in acknowledgement.

"And you also mentioned never having met this Veela bevore?"

"Well, yes. This was my first trip to France. Why is this so important?"

"My apologies for this question, but what exactly did you do with this Veela?" Hermione's eyebrows furrowed at the question.

"Pardon?"

"I merely wish to know if anything…romantic happened. It does not have to include physical intimacy, it's just…" Albena looked to Ellis for help. By this point Hermione's face had turned nine different shades of red and had settled for a darker flush.

"R-romantic?"

"The thing is" Ellis began, leaning forward onto her knees, "when a Veela is attracted to someone, they release pheromones to ward others off. The reason we were surprised is that her pheromones are all over you."

"I-I see. Wh-what does this mean exactly?"

"We mistook you vor her mate" Albena responded. "So ve assumed there vas romantic interaction. Nothing more, nothing less, young one. It is fine, it just means the Veela was attracted to you. She most likely didn't intend to release pheromones."

"Especially if she's only part Veela" Ellis added, "I'm half Veela and, embarrassing as it is to admit, I can't always control when I release my pheromones. Women barely notice you see, but men go mad for it, so it's not the easiest thing to live with."

"O-oh" Hermione mumbled. The last thing she was expecting was to talk about her interaction with Fleur which, now that she realized it, seemed rather flirty. What flustered the busy haired witch more was the fact that she flirted back. She had never flirted with anyone, the very thought scandalous to her fourteen, almost fifteen, year old mind. However, this did explain why she sometimes smelt Fleur. "I, um…we danced and…talked." Her voice was small and embarrassed, not used to speaking of romantic interactions.

"As for your curse, I'm sorry but there's nothing we can do" Ellis sighed. Hermione's heart sunk at the words.

"Wh-why? Isn't there something? A counter curse to reverse it?"

"Veela magic is not like vitches magic." Albena gave an apologetic look, patting Hermione's knee. "There are not counter curses. The only vay is to have your Veela reverse the effects herself, but…there may be something we can do." The older Veela's attention shifted to Zora and Raina. She spoke to them in Bulgarian and they left, running out of the tent. Hermione's eyes followed the two Veela. She was about to question Albena, but the blonde beat her to the punch. "Tell me more of your Veela. Vhat is her name?"

"Her…her name was Fleur."

"No family name?"

"No. We just introduced ourselves by given name. All I know is her name and she's one-fourth Veela."

"Wait" Ellis said suddenly, "One-fourth? That's...not possible. The amount of magic required for that curse...Albena, is that possible?"

"I do not know." Albena pondered, "However deluded the blood a Veela is still a Veela in our community. Even if she is one-fourth, as you say, she would be connected to a covenant. I am unfamiliar with French gaggles. I can attempt to find information. I am sure we have a few French Veela among our group who could-" Before the older Veela could continue Zora and Raina burst into the tent, each brandishing wands.

"Смъртожадните са атакували лагер!Те имат мъгълско заложници." Zora exclaimed, rushing over to Albena and handing her something. Hermione stood, also drawing her wand. Suddenly bone chilling screams could be heard from the campgrounds, accompanied by distant explosions.

"Death Eaters? You have to go." Albena approached the bushy haired witch. She took Hermione's hand, placing a small charm in it. "This is from those infuriating Leprechauns. Their own magic in embedded within the charm. Wear it around your neck and it will dull the effects of the curse." She could only nod as Albena took the charm from her hands and roped it around her neck, barely fitting the string over her busy hair. "Ellis! Make sure she finds her family." The brunette took Hermione by the arm and withdrawing a dark wood wand.

"Let's get moving. We have to get out of here." The only thing she could do was follow Ellis into the screaming crowd and pray the charm worked.


	4. You again

Hi,

I just wanted to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews. I appreciate them more than you know. I'll try to update regularly, probably every Tuesday. I will warn you, my studies come first but I've done quite a bit of work on this fanfiction already, so it would be a waste to just drop it cold turkey.

Thanks and have a nice day,

O'Faolain:

Chapter 4: You again

Dark brown eyes watched the Scottish countryside speed past in a green blur behind the spotless window on the Hogwarts Express. Their compartment had grown quiet after Draco Malfoy's malicious visit. Ron was fuming over the Slytherin's cruel words and Harry was trying to ignore the tension. Hermione did the same. No words could comfort Ron in such a state, so she didn't try. It pained her but he wouldn't respond well to her advice. She noticed boys tended to lock their feelings away, which stood especially so for her best mates: Ron with his insecurities and Harry with his aching scar. In the silence her mind wandered to that night at the Quiddatch World cup, her fingers subconsciously brushing the Leprechaun charm the Veela Albena had given her.

_Screams echoed across the grounds. Flashes of light whizzed past Hermione's ears and all she could do was clench onto Ellis for dear life. The half-Veela maintained a death grip on the girl's hoody, roughly pulling the Gryffindor through the tumult. Chaotic bonfires lit the way for the duo, stumbling through the stampeding crowd. Deafening bangs and shrieks of laughter burned the witch's ears, and finally she spotted the cause of the riot. An organized line of hooded, masked, wizards marched down the isle of flaming tents, many with their wands pointed towards the sky. Hermione's stomach twisted in disgust at the sight of the campsite's Muggle manager dangling thirty feet in the air with, what appeared to be, his wife and two children. The dark figures jeered and screeched with laughter as they toyed with the family. _

_ "Come on!" Ellis pulled Hermione away from the scene only for the half-Veela to be knocked to the ground by a fleeing wizard. The bushy haired witch tried to find the brunette; however the crowd was to strong and the Gryffindor was eventually pushed away. With an especially rough shove the witch fell to the grass. A strangled cry escaped her throat when feet and legs began kicking and tripping over her fallen body. She tried to protect her head and wand as best she could. Eventually the crowd dissolved. She dared a glance upwards only to find a mask covered face gazing down at her, long white-blonde hair falling out of the dark hood. _

_ "Miss Granger" the frightfully familiar voice jeered from behind the mask. The dark figure pointed a black wand at the fallen Gryffindor. All she could do was released a strangled whimper, hyperventilating. She was screaming in her mind. She screamed and begged for her legs to move; to raise her wand in defense; to do something! She saw him inhale, a spell playing at his lips, however the words never left his mouth. _

_ "Stupify!" The dark figure jumped back just in time to avoid a bright red jet of light. The exclamation snapped the witch from her stupor, looking up just in time to see Ellis fighting her way towards a vicious crowd, wand raised. The dark hooded man seemed reluctant to face Ellis. Instead he disappeared into the crowd. Hermione watched him go before she felt the half-Veela's hand grab her hoody once more, practically hoisting the girl to her feet. "God damn those Leprechauns. That damn thing is supposed to be lucky."_

_ "It is" Hermione responded. Her voice cracked, jitters vibrating in her chest. "You came." Ellis didn't respond. Instead the brunette tightened her hold on the girl, guiding Hermione towards the woods.  
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It was one of the most frightening moments in the fifteen year old's life. Ellis had escorted her through the tumult to find the Harry and Ron hiding in the woods, then went back to aid in the fight. It was a distant memory now; however the bushy haired witch couldn't stop a small shiver of fear. Albena had been correct though. The Leprechaun charm had worked.

The charm had been working well for the last two weeks. For the first time in over a month Hermione could make it down the stairs without assistance and could go into the kitchen without fear of being gored by sharp flying objects. She still tripped on occasion and had accidents but she hadn't sprained or broken anything. And she hadn't died in that horrifying incident. That's what mattered. But she knew she couldn't very well live the rest of her life with a Leprechaun charm tied round her neck.

Two days after the World Cup disaster a barn owl appeared at the Weasley's window with a letter from Ellis. The brunette sent her best wishes to the family and to Hermione, inquiring how the Leprechaun charm was working. The bushy haired witch was ecstatic to discover Albena had began her journey to France. Ellis refrained from divulging details of the Bulgarian Veela's progress but it comforted Hermione to know that someone cared enough about her situation and cared enough about her to write. Ellis promised to keep in touch with the witch, even guaranteeing a visit during the school year, being an alumni of Hogwarts herself. The witch was happy to find Ellis had been in Gryffindor as well. The half-Veela wished Hermione a good first semester and told the fourth year not to worry about the curse, that she and Albena would find the witch a solution. However promising this promise was, Hermione refused to sit ideally by and allow others to do her dirty work.

With her return to Hogwarts Hermione was confident she could continue her own research on Veela magic and possibly find or develop a counter-curse. But as classes began her time became consumed with homework and studying. She was just as surprised as everyone when Dumbledore announced the Triwizard Tournament, but unlike everyone else, whose reactions consisted of excited buzz and chatter, she began questioning the sanity of the Ministry. It was absurd, forcing teenagers to compete for the asinine sake school pride! The last competition someone _died_ for Merlin's sake! There was a reason this tournament was canceled. She seemed to be alone in this regard however. Everyone else, including Harry and Ron, grew to anticipate the coming show. Ron especially, wishing he could be old enough to enter. It wasn't as life wasn't dangerous enough, with all of their professors trying to kill them in their lessons. What with Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts, so called for their exploding rear ends (Hermione learned this fact the hard way), Professor Sprout's pus gathering child labor and Mad-eye Moody's 'teaching' methods that involved demonstrating illegal curses on prone fourth years. Hermione wouldn't be surprised if parents began complaining soon.

Her focus however was more towards founding her liberal organization: the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. Harry and Ron didn't seem totally impressed with the idea, despite her appointing them secretary and treasurer, respectively, but something had to be done about the injustice. Slavery, in any context or form, was unacceptable.

Since arriving at Hogwarts the fourth year had spent most of her spare time in the library, doing homework, researching Elfish history or trying to locate texts on this 'Trespasser's Cruse', as Ellis had addressed it. Even with Hogwart's extensive library Hermione could barely find anything on Veela. Every entry on them within books on Fairies simply gave a paragraph description on commonly known facts and basic structure on their social matriarchy. It was absolutely infuriating. She was about ready to borrow Harry's Invisibility Cloak and make a late night visit to the forbidden section, but with everything else she just didn't have the time.

By October Hermione was no closer to figuring a way out of the Trespasser's Curse than she was to convincing people of the misfortune and servitude of House Elves. Soon the two schools, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, were set to arrive for the tournament. They were allowed a half day for this event. Harry was just excited they could skip Double Potions. Harry, Ron and Hermione dropped their school things off in their dorms, as instructed by their Head of House, before queuing with the other students in front of the castle. The sun was setting and Hermione wondered if they would freeze to death before the school representatives even arrived. She highly doubted the sight of a bunch of stiff uniformed students with snot frozen to their noses would impress their foreign visitors. Harry and Ron contemplated the schools' traveling methods.

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?" Hermione snapped at Ron. Ron appeared annoyed by her response to his hypothesis. Harry shrugged, comforting Ron by saying it was a good guess. He was far too kind and Hermione's opinion, though she had to admit the comment was rather snappy. The Gryffindor would have given anything to be in her warm, comfortable library.

"Have you found anything for your problem?" Harry whispered. Hermione appreciated the caution. She didn't necessarily want all of Hogwarts discovering her new found vulnerability.

"No, blast it all" she hissed. "I've been to the library every night available, but nothing. I might write to Albena or Ellis. Perhaps they could recommend some texts." She had already told Harry and Ron about the two Veela as well as shared the letter Ellis had sent. After, of course, they yelled at her for disappearing right before the Death Eaters attacked. It wasn't her brightest decision.

"Didn't they just tell you to keep the charm close? That the French girl was the only one-"

"Yes, but I don't believe it" Hermione interrupted. "Albena said their magic wasn't like wizard magic, so there is no counter curse, but that doesn't mean there isn't another way to release me or that I can't develop a counter curse. I just need to learn about their magic to try and create my own escape."

"Aha!" Dumbledore exclaimed, causing Hermione to jump in surprise. His half moon spectacles were pointed to the sky. "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!" The students followed his upward gaze, scanning the skies with fever. Hermione couldn't see anything but clouds and darkening sky. Then, suddenly, a sixth year exclaimed in excitement at the sight of a large approaching flying object. A girl thought it was a dragon, a ridiculous notion that Hermione scoffed at, but as it approached it became clear that the object was, in fact, a carriage. Leading the way was a dozen winged horses, the sheer size of the animals startling to the fourth year. It was coming down at great speed and, with a loud crash, the house-sized carriage landed.

Neville jumped beside her, like many of the students. For a still moment nothing happened. Hermione strained to see over a rather tall third year as the doors finally opened, revealing a dark haired boy in powder blue robes. He held open the carriage door as a large foot wearing high heels stepped out, followed by the largest woman the fourth year had ever seen. She was easily as tall as Hagrid, an abnormality that sent Hermione into an unintelligible stupor.

The large Headmistress exchanged pleasantries with Dumbledore before a dozen boys and girls filed out the carriage, huddling together for warmth. She imagined they would be used to warmer weather. She rolled her eyes, but stopped when a sheen of golden blonde hair caught her attention. For a moment she thought it her imagination. Her mind was, in one way or another, always focusing on her. She was one moment away from shrugging it off before a head of blonde hair appeared from behind a tall Beauxbaton boy. There, in a powder blue uniform and shivering from the cold, stood the very person Hermione couldn't get out of her head.

"Fleur…" She breathed, unable to restrain herself. Harry seemed to have noticed, but all she saw was the Veela. Fleur spoke animatedly with her classmates, but in that moment she halted all movements. Fleur seemingly froze. The blonde began searching the crowd and Hermione's heart jumped at the action. Maybe…she was searching for her. A ridiculous notion. There was no way Fleur would know she attended Hogwarts. There was no possible-

And with one glance, one single glance, Hermione's mind stopped. Fleur's blue eyes met hers and all of her thoughts became distant whispers and fell completely silent at the Veela's growing smile.

"Hermone?" And then that moment ended. Harry shook her shoulder in concern, noticing the silent interactions between her and the blonde. "Hermione, is that her?" Her brown eyes shifted to Harry with a start.

"What?"

"Is that the…cause of your problem?"

"I-" The young witch looked back at Fleur to see a brunette Beauxbaton girl pulling her away, speaking with her. The Beauxbaton students, along with their oversized Headmistress, made their way to the castle to warm themselves while the Hogwarts students waited for the Bulgarians to arrive. Hermione wished the darn delegation would show so she could corner Fleur. Now that the blonde was absent Hermione's anger far outweighed her astonishment. She might have had a good time with Fleur but that hardly justified or explained the curse and why Fleur put it on her in the first place. The thought made her blood boil. Teasing her, dancing with her, and now, after placing a curse on her, Fleur had the gall to _smile_. Hermione didn't know whether her heart was beating fast from the image of that damnable smile, forever burned in her mind, or from the blood vehemently pumping in her veins, but it kept her warm until Bulgaria showed in their enchanted ship. She was surprised to find Viktor with the Durmstrang student. He seemed to be a favorite of the Durmstrang's Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff, but Hermione couldn't find the appreciation to care as all the students rushed into the castle, hoping to warm themselves.

Seated at Gryffindor table, Hermione and Harry watched Fleur and her Beauxbotans classmates sit at the Ravenclaw table. Every now and then the blonde would cast a glance at the fourth year, sending her an infuriating smirk every chance she was allowed.

"What is she playing at?" the bushy haired witched let out an indignant huff. She was disappointed when Beauxbatons had chosen to sit with the Ravenclaws. Hermione could barely focus on Ron's continuous blabbering about Viktor Krum being at Hogwarts, going so far as to suggest he could bunk with the Gryffindor boys. While the Beauxbotans seemed to be huddling together to preserve body warmth, the Durmstrang students were removing their thick furs.

"I'd imagine this is like summer to them" Hermione mumbled, glancing around the hall. Each of the distant schools had brought twelve students to compete for the Triwizard Cup, a mixture of boys and girls. How the Champions would be chosen was still a mystery. This 'impartial judge', as Dumbledore had explained it, had yet to show. She wondered if it might be someone from the Ministry.

"So are you going to talk to her?" Harry asked, glancing over at Fleur.

"I suspect Beauxbotans and Durmstrang will be staying in their respective modes of transportation" the witch reasoned, glancing over at Fleur. She seemed to be giggling over something one of the boys had said. "I might try and get her away from her group after the feast, but I'll have to be quick."

"What're you two talking about?" Ron asked, prying his eyes away from Viktor, who Malfoy was currently brown-nosing.

"The…person that caused Hermione's problem, she's one of the Beauxbotans students." Harry kept his voice low, "We're trying to think of a way to get her alone."

"Yeah?" Ron said excitedly. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Which one is she?"

"The blonde sitting between the Beauxbotan boy and Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker" Hermione pointed out, causing Harry to blush. She knew of his crush on the fifth year Ravenclaw. He was quite obvious about it, but she never mentioned to subject. Harry was a sensitive individual, or rather Hermione like the think he was.

"Whoa!" Hermione glared at Ron for the sudden exclamation. The red head's eyes were now glued on Fleur, his precious Viktor Krum forgotten. "Now that's a girl!"

"Will you stop leering!" she hissed, withholding the urge to slap him. "I didn't point her out so you could- could- _ogle_ her like some side show!"

"Sorry Mione, but she's brilliant, isn't she? They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"

"They make them okay at Hogwarts" Harry mumbled, glancing over at Cho.

"You're both being daft!" Hermione exclaimed, giving a huff of annoyance.

"Why am I daft?" She could only laugh at the confusion in Harry's voice as Dumbledore stood to speak, silencing the entire hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most particularly – guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable." At this Hermione heard Fleur laugh behind her muffler, saying something quietly to one of the other Beauxbatons students. She glared at the Veela, who noticed and blew her a playful kiss. Feeling her cheeks flush, the fourth year averted her gaze.

"The Tournament" Dumbledore continued, his soft voice echoing across the Great Hall, "will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!" The plates on the five tables, counting the professors' tables at the front of the hall, filled with food. Hermione scoffed, thinking of the enslaved elves working in the kitchens. No wages, no workers comp, no pensions. She saw that the elves had made Bulgarian and French dishes for the international students.

"What's _that_" asked Ron, pointing at one of the French dishes.

"Bouillabaisse" she responded. He gave her a dismissive glance.

"Bless you."

"It's _French_, Ronald. I had it on holiday. It's actually quite nice-"

"Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?" And just like that Hermione's heart leapt into her throat at the voice of Fleur, the very Veela she had been cursing. Ron's face went twenty different shades at the sight of her, standing there innocently in her powder blue uniform. Even Harry seemed affected by her presence.

"Yeah, have it" he mumbled.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?" She wasn't even addressing Harry, keeping her blue eyed gaze on Hermione with a smirk.

"Yeah" Ron said breathlessly, "Yeah, it was excellent."

"Oh, come off it!" Hermione exclaimed. With swiftness she didn't normally possess the fourth year stood, grabbing hold of Fleur's arm before dragging her out of the Great Hall. They passed Ludo Bagman and Mr. Crouch; however Hermione's sole focus was on the elusive Veela who happened to fall right into her grasp. She led Fleur up to the Seventh floor (tripping on the faulty step Peeves loved) before running up to the Fat Lady and yelling, "Balderdash!" The Lady was affronted but opened none the less, babbling about the brash nature of today's youth.

"'Ermione, az flattered az I am zat you do not wish to share me, my Headmistress will be wondering where I 'ave gone." Fleur giggled as she followed the bushy haired teenager into the Common Room, looking around in fascination and removing her muffler. "Iz zis where you live? It iz much warmer 'ere-"

"Where do you come off?" Hermione yelled, her voice reverberating on the walls. Fleur looked shocked at the sudden exclamation.

"Excusez-moi?" Fleur countered, obviously offended by the sudden assault. "Iz zis 'ow ze English treat guests? Ze forze zem up zousands of stairs only to yell at zem?"

"Where do you come off just appearing out of nowhere, and then acting like nothing happened!"

"Acting like- 'Ermione, I 'ave done anyzing but zat! Whom do you zink I was winking at, your fluztered red 'aired friend?"

"Yes, smiling, winking, sending playful looks – charm me like you did in Marseille-"

"I'm charming, hmm?" Fleur smirked, but Hermione was too far within her anger to care.

"-then you curse me! You led me to believe we were just-" flirting, "having a cultural interaction and-"

"Curse you?" the Veela interrupted, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "'Ermione, I do not understand."

"Don't act innocent, Fleur! The Trespasser's Curse from your Fairy Circle!" Fleur's blue eyes widened, her smirk falling. "Ever since that night I've been having accidents! Tripping, bumping into things, random flying objects attacking me, falling down flights of stairs – have you ever sprained the same ankle multiple times? It. Is. Not. Pleasant!"

"'Ermione- 'Ermione, please calm youzelf!" Fleur tried to place her hands on Hermoine's arms, but the fourth year ripped away.

"No, I will not calm myself! I almost died, Fleur! I could have died if it weren't for- for-" Her voiced suddenly failed her at the memory, her eyes tearing.

"'Ermion, please listen to me, I 'ad no idea zat would happen! I- I did not know. And you ran off zo fast zat night I had no time to-" Fleur took a shaky breath in before her eyes dropped from Hermione's, narrowing at something on the witch's chest. "What iz zat?"

"What?"

"Zat zing around your neck." Fleur closed the distance between her and the fourth year. Hermione jumped at the sudden proximity, attempting an escape only to back into a red divan. Thin fingers ensnared the little, green charm Albena had given her. She half expected the Veela to rip it from her neck, it's certainly what Fleur's face reflected, but she simply eyed the item vehemently. "_Zis_. What iz zis?" The disgust in her voice was apparent and reminded Hermione of the Bulgarian mascots complaining about the Irish. And once again she wondered if Fleur was able to transform into that harpy like creature.

"I-It's a Leprechaun charm to counteract the effects of the curse-"

"Where did you get it?"

"From someone who cared enough about my well being to assist me when required!" Hermione snapped, taking the charm from Fleur's grasp and tucking it into her blouse. "I had to seek elsewhere for information! You have no right to be upset with me, so don't you dare take that tone!"

"I will take whatever tone I wish when zome ozzer creature's magic iz on you!"

"Whose magic I chose to use is none of your business!"

"Zen you don't need mine!" Hermione's heart sank as Fleur stormed away, stomping towards the portrait of the Fat Lady. In desperation the fourth year chased after her, rushing out of the Common room.

"W-wait! Blast it, Fleur! I need you to lift the curse!"

"Azk your Leprechaun friendz!" the Frenchwoman shot over her shoulder. Hermione prepared to argue, but her retort fell short. Suddenly a wave of magic struck her. It wasn't physical, no, but emotional. The magic froze her body and in that moment she recognized it as the magic from that night, _Fleur's_ magic. The sheer strength of the emotions suffocated the fourth year. All she could do was watch Fleur march away, the sound of her blue heels resonating down the corridor.


	5. The Letter

"Hermione!" Her dark eyes shot open at the sound of a high pitch voice. The witch was wide awake and jumped out of bed, heart pounding from the sudden shock.

"What?"

"Open your blasted window!" A groggy Lavender Brown called, pointing from her four poster bed to the window next to Hermione's. The witch released a shaky breath, realizing there was no urgency or danger. Her first thought was to demand an explanation, angered that she was being demanded to do something so trivial, however the sound of tapping glass caught her attention. Outside stood a rather plump, old brown owl, its impatient beady eyes trained on the busy haired girl. For a moment they simply stared at one another. Hermione certainly wasn't expecting mail, nor had ever recalled seeing this specific screech owl before. She was certain to have remembered him, with that cold, dead stare. Once again, the owl tapped and Hermione rushed to let it inside, suddenly fearing Lavender would throw an improper jinx her way. Once the window was open the small screech hopped onto the window sill and Hermione spotted a letter attached to its little leg. She wasn't sure she wanted to try and retrieve the parchment. The little demon looked ready to peck her finger off. Her curiosity won out in the end, her small hands undoing the letter's fastenings. Surprisingly the owl remained passive, completely ready to be rid of the burden. Hermione unfurled the note, taking a deep and excited breath when she saw Albena's signiture at the bottom:

_Dear Hermione,_

_It has been some time since the Quidditch World Cup. I hope you have been well and that the Leprechaun charm is warding off the effects of the curse._

Hermione released a harsh sigh. Recently the blasted thing had done more harm than good. It still didn't prevent every accident. Just the other day Peeves had attacked her and Ron with enchanted flying books. It was only when one closed around her arm did they discover the tomes had developed teeth. Not a pleasant visit to Madame Pomfrey.

_I wished to write you and inform you of my progress and speak with you of the Leprechaun charm. I have acquired information on a French covenant in Marseille. I am to speak with their elders in three days time. If this girl is ¼ Veela, as you have mentioned, there may be more to this situation than I predicted._

_As for the charm, I wished to warn you of its own effects. While the charm is that of Leprechaun magic, that which brings fortune to persons possessing it, the magic is only agreeable for certain bouts of time. Leprechaun magic, in and of itself, can be unstable. At some point the magic may turn against you, so I wish to locate this Fleur soon. The sooner we bring the two of you together the quicker this matter can be resolved._

_Feel free to write to me with questions or such. Ellis is near your area, or so I have been informed. If anything comes from my meeting in France I will send Ellis to collect you. She is familiar with the area around your school and should be able to locate you._

_Wishing you well,_

_Albena_

_P.S._

_This is my personal owl. His name is Egwin and will be sent whenever we have correspondence. He is not the friendliest creature, please be wary of his beak._

Hermione's eyes once again found that of the small, aggravated owl, who had watched the witch read through the entire letter with its dead eyes. She smiled at it, secretly wishing the creature would turn away. Its gaze was, to say the least, unnerving. Perhaps Harry had some owl treats she could give it. Maybe then the old owl would stop staring at her. The fourth year took out a quill and ink, writing a response to the Bulgarian Veela:

_Dear Albena,_

_It's good to hear from you. I have been wearing the charm daily and, as of now, nothing horrific has occurred. In fact my worst accident has been an encounter with the castle's poltergeist, Peeves._

_I hope I'm not bothering you with my problems. As of now you and Ellis are possibly the only ones who appreciate the severity of my condition. What I mean by this is I've found her: Fleur. She appeared at Hogwarts yesterday as part of the Triwizard Tournament. She attends the French Wizarding School, Beauxbatons. I confronted her with disastrous results._

A soft growl escaped her lips at the memory.

_She had the audacity to be cross with me for using the Leprechaun's charm to counteract the curse she placed on me. We argued and she stormed off, refusing to rid me of this awful experience. It was strange. As she left I felt her magic again. Not her wizarding magic, but her Veela, I'm assuming. The magic seemed to feed off her anger._

_I've tried researching Veelas in the school's library however to no avail. There is hide nor hair of anything involving what Veela magic is and how to counteract it. Could you perhaps educate me on the subject or suggest a book? It might aid me in finding a cure which, despite the setback yesterday, I persist to find. If Fleur won't help me I'll have to figure a solution on my own._

_I appreciate your assistance. You didn't have to but you've helped me, though it must have been a burden. I just wanted to thank you for all you've done._

_Hoping to hear from you soon,_

_Hermione_

The fourth year looked up to see the old screech had yet to remove his eyes from her. He ducked his head down at her gaze, as if nudging her to finish. She sighed, tying the parchment with a ribbon before approaching the tiny creature.

"You won't bite me, will you?" Her words went unanswered. Egwin simply eyed her. Upon closer examination she saw the old screech looked far worse than she originally perceived. The tiny owl had feathers missing and a scar above his left eye. She felt sorry for the creature, smiling at him. "Okay," she breathed, reaching out to give him the note. Relief filled her when he didn't bite. He did nip at her hand. It didn't hurt so she ignored him until she secured the letter to his leg. "Take this back to Albena, please. There's a good boy." The screech simply flew out the window. He didn't even allow Hermione to finish her sentence before departing towards the mountains.

The witch's eyes wandered to Lavender, who had fallen back asleep. Envy filled the fourth year. Despite her confidence in the letter Hermione's head had been so full of worry and anxiety she couldn't get a full night's rest. Her mind always returned to Fleur, or the curse, or her never ending search for information. The young witch possibly slept four hours and it showed. Upon inspection in her looking glass Hermione saw clearly the dark rings around her eyes and the impossibly bushy state of her hair. She looked like a raccoon.

With some effort and magic Hermione finally dubbed herself presentable, though there was still evidence of insomnia under her eyes. She went down to the Great Hall with Ron and Harry, all three watching for competitors willing to place forth their names. It seemed they weren't the only ones early to the hall that Saturday morning, students paying amped attention to anyone who stepped close to the circle. Fred and George tried and failed with the aging potion and, once Dumbledore complimented them on their fine beards, the twins made their way to the infirmary. Harry pitched that the three go down to visit Hagrid, something they hadn't done because of all the excitement. Hermione went to retrieve her S.P.E.W. badges, thinking to persuade Hargrid to join the cause, after which returning to the Great Hall to find Ron and Harry watching all of the Beauxbatons students submitting their names to the Goblet of Fire, including Fleur. Hermione watched the French witch's long, thin fingers reach into the fire before releasing a small piece of parchment into the embers. It burned immediately and Fleur smiled to one of her classmates, chattering in French.

"Hermoine?" Harry attentively tapped her shoulder, "ready to go?" She gave a nod, her eyes holding to the Beauxbotans students before turning to leave. The visit with Hagrid was anything but pleasant in her opinion. Hermione was cross with him for advocating house elf enslavement, preaching that they _liked_ it. She thought of dissuading him of this notion but the feast was to start soon, so the four of them prepared to leave together, Harry Ron and Hermione muttering quietly, pondering why Hagrid had dressed himself up. Their curiosity was answered when, outside the small hut, emerged the Beauxbotans students from their carriage, lead by the large Madame Maxime. Hermione gave in indignant huff of annoyance when Hagrid trotted up to Madame Maxime, seemingly abandoning the trio. Her ire only increased at the sight of Fleur, her white-blonde hair dancing behind her as she followed her Headmistress in the front of the queue.

"Why don't you go speak with her?" Harry nudged, pointing to Fleur.

"Our last encounter was anything but civil" she mumbled in response.

"Well, maybe you should apologize" Ron said, watching as the Durmstrang students left their ship, also heading for the feast.

"Me apologize?" Hermione huffed, stomping her foot in annoyance, "What do I have to apologize for? She's the one who cursed me."

"I didn't-"

"Nevermind Ronald, let's just get this over with." Was the last thing Hermione said to the pair before they reached the castle entrance. She fumed over Ron's statement, and further over Hargid refusing to join S.P.E.W. Hermione wasn't upset over their argument or the fact that Fleur seemed jealous. It was purely her lack of understanding of the woman that infuriated the fourth year to the point of tears. _Why _had Fleur become jealous? What about the Leprechaun charm upset her? What was Hermione supposed to do, live with the curse without knowledge she'd ever see the Veela again? Fleur's logic escaped Hermione, as did every aspect of the Frenchwoman. No, all Hermione could hope for was that Albena responded to her inquiry so she could develop a counter-curse. Fleur obviously had no intention of helping her.

The entrance to the Great Hall was crowded. The trio had to push past other students just to find a decent seat at the table. Fred and George, now cleanly shaven, were already there chattering away. The Halloween feast appeared and students ate half-heartedly, their attention focused on the main event. There were silent whispers of anticipation, eyes every so often darting towards the Goblet of Fire that rested in front of Dumbledore's seat. The Headmaster himself seemed to take the longest to finish the meal, all others waiting for the wizard with anxiety. Hermione was waiting for panic attacks or a sudden coup, but Dumbledore finished before either happened. The golden plates disappeared and the Headmaster stood, raising everyone's pulse with excitement. He stood with the other Heads and the Ministry officials at the front of the hall.

"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the Champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber where they will be receiving their first instructions." With his speech finished Dumbledore, with one sweep of his wand, took all other lights from the Great Hall aside from the Goblet of Fire. A minute more and the flame began to crackle, reddening before spitting a small piece of parchment from it's applicants. The elderly headmaster caught the paper and gazed upon it through his half-moon spectacles. "The champion for Durmstrang," he announced to the silent hall, "will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!" Hermione could barely hear Ron as the room burst into applause, all watching as Viktor stood and was ushered into the private chamber. After a moment of celebration the hall died down once again, the Goblet resuming its bright red flame. Another name was ejected from the small cup.

"The champion for Beauxbotans is Fleur Delacour!"

"Hermione" Harry nudged her, but the bushy haired witch hardly felt it. Her eyes instantly shot to Fleur. Fleur rose from the Ravenclaw table, leaving the rest of her classmates to weep in their loss. As if for show, the blonde shook back her sheet of silvery hair in victory. Her blue eyes found Hermione's as she walked, Fleur's smile disappearing in their gaze. A flurry of emotions was shared with that one glance - sorrow, anger, regret, worry, resentment. Their silent battle vanished when Fleur reached Dumbledore, who directed her into the next chamber and the Veela disappeared from Hermione's sight. She looked back to the elderly headmaster only to find his attention on her, an odd smile playing at his lips. With a huff she placed her attention else where and with another flare of red the Goblet released the much anticipated name of the Hogwarts champion.

Screams of victory erupted from the Hufflepuff table, however their cries were distant to the fourth year. As conflicted as she was Hermione couldn't deny her concern over the Veela's position. Her belief that this tournament should never have been resurrected remained firm, more so now that someone she- she- she what? Knew? Now that someone she knew was placed in danger, Ron and Harry's accounts of how Dumbledore described the _death tolls_ during the announcement she missed last night ringing in her ears. Fleur might have been many things – many things Hermione didn't understand – but she could never disregard the danger the blonde was now placed in. The only thing to snap Hermione from her thoughts was the Goblet crackling once again, the shock extending throughout the hall. A fourth and final piece of parchment fell into Dumbledore's wrinkled hand, and the girl's heart all but died as he called the name:

"Harry Potter."


	6. From Bad to Worse

In the silent hall Hermione watched the door leading to the other chamber. Her thumb nail was down to the nub, teeth grinding at it for the better half of an hour. Harry. Of all people, Harry. Her stomach churned at the thought, sick with worry. She knew he couldn't have put forth his name. Harry was talented, though his modesty would never admit it, but there was no way he'd have the ability to cross Dumbledore's age line without acquiring a beard. What's more the sheer shock on his face when the Headmaster called his name…no, Hermione knew Harry couldn't have put his name into the Goblet of Fire. If only she could convince others of her logic, however that mission seemed hopeless. The Hufflepuffs had hurried out of the Great Hall after the feast, wanting to prep a celebration party for Cedric while cursing along with the Slytherins. The Gryffindors left just as quickly, Lee Jorden chattering about an old banner they could use during the party. She lost Ron in the crowd but Hermione was hoping beyond anything to catch Harry coming out of the meeting. Instead she was first greeted with Fleur and her Headmistress, Madame Maxime, speaking in rapid French. Hermione could barely understand a word, but it seemed the Headmistress was lecturing the blonde. Fleur froze when she noticed her at the Gryffindor table. The bushy haired witch forced her eyes to look away. All she wanted was to see Harry – to make sure he was alright. She couldn't be distracted. But, then again, Fleur had been in the room. She could tell her what happened. She heard Fleur excuse herself from her Headmistress. She heard heels click against the stone floor until the Veela stood right next to Hermione.

"We need to zpeak. Pleaze?" Fleur said. Hermione didn't respond. The young witch stood, gesturing Fleur to follow. She led the Veela out of the Great Hall and to the first floor. There were still a few students out of bed, so the fourth year ushered the blonde into an empty classroom, shutting the door to wondering minds. Hermione would just have to catch Harry at the victory party.

"I do not want you wearing zat zing." Hermione's head spun to face Fleur, confused by the sudden admission.

"What?"

"Ze Leprechaun charm. I do not want you wearing it." In an instant their argument came flooding back to her, her jaw dropping at the sudden demand. "Wait, let me zpeak-"

"No! You don't get to speak. You already abandoned me to my own devices! I'm not here to talk about that, I'm here to talk about Harry."

"'Arry?" Fleur growled, seemingly astonished by the sudden change in subject, "'Arry? Zat little boy? I come to you to apologize and- and wish to zpeak of '_Arry_?"

"Yes! He's one of my best friends and he's suddenly in this blasted tournament! I haven't seen him since the Goblet chose him-"  
>"Zen he should not 'ave submit 'iz name."<p>

"He didn't! Fleur, you should have seen the look on his face – he was terrified! He has enough stress he doesn't need to worry about losing his life in this meaningless fool's errand!"

"Fool's errand? It iz a honor to be zelected! 'Ermione, I 'ave waited weeks, 'oping I would be chosen to represent my school – my country! Do you know 'ow proud my muzzer and fazzer will be when I tell zem I am ze Beauxbotan's Champion? Zat I will 'ave ze opportunity to place our family's name in 'istory?"

"That opportunity isn't worth your life, Fleur!" Hermione hissed. All she wanted to do was slap that glazed look from the Veela's deep blue eyes. How could she consider honor and glory over the risk of death? "It means nothing if all you receive for it is a funeral!"

"Zer is no turning back, and zat alzo applies to your _friend_." Fleur's eyebrow twitched in annoyance as the word left her lips.

"Merlin's beard!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration. "First the charm and now Harry? You're jealous of _Harry_?" The Veela's eyes widened at the claim, clearly aghast.

"I am not jealous of zat _little boy_!"

"Clearly! Or we wouldn't be having this conversation!" The Veela puffed out her chest and turned, clearly planning her departure, but Hermione jumped for her, grabbing the young woman's arm. "Wait! Please, I just want to know if Harry's alright. I'm beside myself. He's one of my best friends. Please, Fleur." She could feel the Frenchwoman's magic again. It was thick and palpable and it told her the Veela was not pleased with the request. But any verbal assault Fleur might have considered was held from the fourth year. Instead the blonde clicked her tongue before taking a deep breath.

"He haz to compete. Ze Goblet haz a magical contract zat binds 'im to ze tournament, as it does us all. I am afraid I cannot make it any eazier for 'im eizzer. 'e is my competition and I will win zis tournament."

"I don't care if he wins. I highly doubt Harry cares either. I just want him safe."

"Zafe? 'E will not be zafe. We were not given information for ze first task. It iz zer intention the champions venture blind." Hermione could feel tears welling in her eyes. What sort of administrators thought it wise to send, not only a fourteen year old, but three barely of age witch and wizards into unknown danger? Hagrid had said the first task would be exciting and, she had to admit, at the time it sounded entertaining. But nothing of the tournament seemed entertaining now. Harry had to face some unknown danger that could potentially _kill_ him? Hermione tried to rationalize her fear; tried to find comfort in the fact that Dumbledore would never allow harm to come to his students, that the Ministry had put precautions in place to assure the champions safety, but hadn't they also said that about the World Cup? The tortured screams and blazing fire, that poor muggle family captured and levitating above the tumult – Hermione could still hear that hiss from the Death Eater, that curse playing at his lips – hadn't the Ministry said the same thing involving that security fiasco?

Hermione was snapped from her thoughts as a pair of arms wrapped around her, Fleur's stable hands drawing her into the Frenchwoman's warm body. Her forearms were the only thing separating them, her hands coming to rest on the Veela's shoulders.

"What are you doing?" she choked out, hiccupping slightly through her words. She hadn't realized the tears had begun to fall.

"I am still upset wiz you" Fleur whispered into her hair, causing the fourth year to give a huff of annoyance, "and you are ztill upset wiz me. But zat does not mean I will let you cry wizout comfort. Zat would be cruel." Hermione thought to retort, thought to vehemently deny Fleur the right to care. If she didn't wish to be cruel she would have never placed the curse on Hermione, would have lifted it without becoming emotion over a silly charm, wouldn't have become jealous of Harry for absolutely no reason, but even Hermione could sympathize with the blonde on some of those accounts. Emotions were irrational. Hermione couldn't help the swelling warmth in her chest, nor the heat in her cheeks. She couldn't deny the small glimmer of satisfaction from Fleur's comfort and attention. She couldn't explain why her arms circled the Veela, bringing the blonde closer. Emotions were irrational. Perhaps Fleur's were as well. "I am zorry. I zhould 'ave been…" The blonde seemed to wrestle with the correct words, "zenzitive?"

"Sympathetic?" Hermione offered.

"Oui…zat. I am alzo zorry for ze ozzer night…'owever, we must zpeak of ze Leprechaun charm."

"Oh, will you give it a rest. You're supposed to be comforting me. I don't need a lecture."

"It iz important. Zis iz not only about your…distasteful choice of jewelry." Hermione irritation grew at how Fleur seemed to roll the 'r' of the last word with a vengeance. "Leprechaun magic iz unbalanced, mon ami. Ze are offsprings of good and evil creatures. Ze magic in zat charm iz ze same. Zat zing will only ztay beneficial for zo long and I wanted to warn you."

"Albena said something to the same extent."

"Albena?" Fleur raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Before you drive yourself into another diva fit will you allow me to explain?" Hermione could sense Fleur wanted to argue. Her Veela magic certainly made this fact known. However the blonde, oddly reasonable for the moment, simply took a deep breath, waiting for the fourth year to continue warily. "She's a Veela from Bulgaria I met during the Quidditch World Cup. When the curse began to develop I had to look for answers and it so happened the Bulgarian Quidditch team hired Veela as their mascots. She's the one that gave me the Leprechaun charm. It's been working beautifully since, though I still have the occasional blast-ended skrewt exploding in my face. I still can't get the scent of smoke out of my hair." Hermione shook her head before returning to the topic at hand. "If you really want me to be rid of the thing, I need you to lift the curse." Fleur's arms loosened around her as the blonde stepped away, releasing a deep sigh. "Please Fleur, I am tired of living this way. I'm afraid everyday that something worse than a paper cut or a blast-ended skrewt will happen. The longer I have this curse the worse the accidents become."

"I don't know 'ow" Fleur whispered, and every hopeful feeling escaped from Hermione's soul. A cold, sickening numbness enveloped the girl's mind, dripping down her shoulders and into her stomach.

"You-you don't-"

"'Ermione, I never meant to hurt you" Fleur said, with a new sense of determination. The Frenchwoman took her by the shoulders, keep the fourth year steady when all she wanted was to fall. "I never meant to place zis curse on you – I did not know ze properties of my magic. I do not know ze first zing of Veela's magic. All I know iz zat it originates from our emotions. Mine 'as been present in my life; 'owever it 'as never caused trouble. I will owl my muzzer. She will know what course to take."

"Albena said something of getting in touch with your…gaggle?" Fleur nodded. "She said she was going to speak with the 'elders' in Marseille."

"Oui. My muzzer might already know. Regardless, I will zend my letter. We should zpeak furzzer, butI fear Madame Maxime will zearch for me if I ztay longer. She wishes to begin my training."

"Oh- oh my gosh. Harry! I need to find Harry!" Hermione stepped out of Fleur's reach, rushing to the door. "He might be at the Gryffindor celebration-"

"'Ermione!" The Gryffindor halted at Fleur's voice, turning back to face the blonde. "We will find a zolution. I promise." Hermione's mouth twitched, smile breaking through her worry. The Veela smirked, strolling up to the fifteen year old before placing a small kiss on her cheek. "Goodnight, mon ami," and with that the French champion walked away, heels clicking down the staircase. Hermione stood rooted to the spot, her face heating to abnormal temperatures.

"Oh my gosh, that was so flirty" she whispered to herself, her hand covering her mouth in shock before she ventured up the moving staircase. It seemed every encounter with the blonde Hermione could recall had some element of a…romantic nature. Upon reflection, even their argument the previous night seemed more of a lover's spat than anything. The fourth year had to inhale a stiff breath, nerves getting the better of her. The idea of a…romantic relationship both shocked and confused her. The mere thought made Hermione want to shit herself, so foreign and scandalous to her solitary fifteen year old mind. But with Fleur, she didn't need to _think_. It just sort of…happened. It wasn't until the Veela did something radical, like kissing her cheek, that the fourth year realized what was occurring. Hermione made her way to the Gryffindor common room, where the party was still in full swing. She couldn't spot Harry and gave up her search when George informed her he retired for the evening. Defeated, the bushy haired witch did the same, hoping to catch her friend in the morning.

She rose early the next day, wishing to surprise Harry with breakfast. She guessed the boy wouldn't be keen on socializing so she rushed down to the Great Hall, grabbing a bundle of toast and returning to the seventh floor. She caught Harry on his way down and, from the expression on his face, she had guessed correctly. They enjoyed their toast by the lake as Harry regaled her with details of the meeting and his argument with Ron. She tried to encourage him to rationalize with the red head, a feat she knew to be difficult, however Harry remained as stubborn.

"Where were you last night?" Harry asked, averting the topic. Hermione huffed in annoyance but allowed the boy the small victory.

"Well I- I was originally waiting for you in the Great Hall. I was worried but Fleur was the first person I saw."

"Did you talk to her?"

"Yes Harry, because that is how adults deal with disagreements. They _talk-_"

"Hermione" Harry growled.

"Fine" she replied, conveniently leaving out the bit where she and Fleur argued. The term

'lover's spat' once again entered her head but she ignored it. "We talked and Fleur doesn't know how she placed the Trespasser's Curse on me, much less how to remove it. She said she'd owl her mother. And Albena mentioned she'd be in contact with someone. Elders, I think she called them. Hopefully something will come of it. I'm continuing my research; however all I'm certain of is that Veela magic operates on their emotions. Wizarding magic can be channeled in the same fashion but Veela magic seems overly dependent on them."

"It's a start, isn't it?" Harry said reassuringly, grabbing another piece of toast. Hermione merely smiled. It seemed all she could do for him at this point. Once school resumed Harry grew exceedingly introverted and increasingly agitated. Most of the school was against him. She hadn't seen such an organized front against Harry since their second year, when everyone thought him to be Slytherin's heir. What's more the boy still refused to speak with Ron, and vice versa. Hermione was forced to spare time for both. Ron had the same sentiments as Harry, angry and upset he hadn't confided in him. All he ever talked about was how Harry was being a git. Most of their conversations ended with Hermione storming off in frustration. As much as Hermione tried to comfort Harry there was only so many, "ignore them"s she could muster. She wanted to say more, wanted to assure him things would get better and that what others thought didn't matter. But whenever she opened her mouth to voice these pleasantries it just turned into, 'ignore them'. Harry was just so locked in his anxiety she didn't know how to help. A few days passed in this manner: Harry in his silent suffering, Ron in his vocal frustrations and Hermione ready to rip her bushy hair from her head.

"Have you seen Fleur around?" Harry asked her as they left the Great Hall, moving to the dungeons for double potions. It was the first time the boy inquired anything for a few days, giving Hermione hope he was recovering from the social abuse.

"No. I've seen her in the halls but we haven't spoken since the selection. I haven't heard from Albena either. Well, nothing horrific has happened in a while."

"Hermione, the staircases moved us to the same floor Peeves just _happened_ to be flinging the worst dung bombs I have ever smelt. We were _covered_."

"Oh Merlin, is it sad I don't find that horrific?"

"Yes. We were _covered_." Hermione winced in guilt.

"Sorry."

The pair finally made it to Snape's classroom only to find the students waiting outside for the Potions Master to show, Gryffindors and Slytherins separated into their groups. Ron stood with Seamus and Dean in the corner while Malfoy seemed to be having a laugh with his Slytherin mates over some odd badges, stating: _Support Cedric Diggory – the REAL Hogwarts Champion!_

"Like them, Potter?" Malfoy exclaimed, flashing them his own badge. "And this isn't all they do – look!" With a press of his finger the badge changed from the red letters to glowing green, stating: _Potter Stinks_.

"Oh, _very_ funny" Hermione countered sarcastically as the Slytherins began laughing, "really _witty_."

"Want on, Granger?" Malfoy said with a cocky grin, offering her one. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see, don't want a Mudblood sliming it up." Before Hermione could counter her words were lost to shock as Harry withdrew his wand, poising it at Malfoy.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed as Malfoy followed the motion, pointing his own wand at Harry.

"Go on, then, Potter. Moody's not here to look after you now – do it. If you've got the guts-"

Hermione stepped away from the two, their eyes locking for a split second. She turned to Harry, thinking of something to say; anything that would calm him from Malfoy's jabs, but before she could both boys acted.

"_Furnunculus_!"

"_Densaugeo_!"

All Hermione saw was a jet of light before she hit the ground. For a moment she was gone, too shocked from the impact to think properly. Then she felt it. Something brushing her bottom lip. The invasion persisted and Hermione's hands shot to her mouth.

"Hermione!" She heard Ron call but ignored him as she pressed her finger against her mouth, feeling the ever growing teeth now brushing her chin. She saw Ron coming, shook her head in desperation, but the boy pried her hands away from her mouth, revealing effects of Malfoy's jinx.

"And what is all this noise about?" Of all teachers. Of all teachers, Hermione would have given anything to not have heard Snape's voice. She clamped her hands firmly over her face once more as Malfoy began to explain, revealing Goyle's damage from Harry's jinx.

"Malfoy got Hermoine!" Ron yelled, "Look!" Once again Hermione tried to wrestle Ron's hands away, but he was too strong. Her teeth were revealed to the whole corridor. Pansy Parkinson released a horrible shriek of laughter. Snape remained passive. His unmoved face was the worst reaction of all.

"I see no difference."

She ran. Hermione barely registered Harry and Ron yelling profanities at Snape, or even the tears streaking down her face. All she could do was run. She took a secret passage, leading to the fifth floor, and collapsed in an uninhabited corridor, sinking to the floor before curling her knees into her chest. Well, she tried. Her teeth were now well past her collar, deflecting her knees. This only increased the witch's frustration. For a brief moment, Hermione would have given anything, even undergoing another sprained ankle, to have avoided that mess; to have avoided living one of her worst fears. She had always been teased for her teeth, always a size to big. She just followed her parent's advice, accepting the trait; however Hermione had always been insecure involving her appearance. Now, with her bushy hair and her ever growing teeth, she might as well be a chipmunk like everyone called her in primary. Go live in some hollow and collect nuts for winter. Why hadn't she listened to Albena, or Fleur for that matter, when they had warned her of the Leprechaun's charm? She would have preferred to suffer another bookshelf falling on her than- than- She choked back a sob, grabbing the necklace roughly. She struggled to remove it but managed to get it past her teeth and threw the charm across the corridor, curling as best she could. Suddenly she heard the clicking of heels.

" Ermione?"

No. Hermione's mind flooded with panic. All she heard was hurried heels against the stone floor. No, no, no- Not Fleur. Anyone but Fleur. A hand touched her shoulder but Hermione turned away. Another sob and a hiccup escaped her as she fought Fleur's hands.

"'Ermione, what-"

"Leff me alone!" Hermione sobbed, mostly at the mispronouncing some of her words. "Leff me alone!" Fleur gasped, having caught a glimpse of Hermione's teeth.

"Wha-what 'as 'appened to you?" All Hermione could do was cry in response. When it was clear she wouldn't get an explanation Fleur wrapped her arms around the fourth year, drawing her to her feet. "Mon dieu. Do not worry, I will get you to ze Hospital Wing" the blonde whispered, removing her muffler and secured it around Hermione's neck. Properly adjusted, the fabric hid her teeth and Hermione allowed herself to be led. She didn't trust herself to move freely at the moment. All she could manage was to cling to Fleur as she guided her to the Hospital Wing, hiding her face best she could. Madame Pomfrey took her in at once. Fleur stated she had to leave momentarily, but promised to return once her business was sorted. And with a kiss atop Hermione's bushy hair, she left.

END CHAPTER

A/N:

I apologize that it took two weeks to get this chapter up. To put it poetically, the universe decided to take a huge dump on my life. But I'm not here to talk about problems, I'm here to write. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I promise more soon.

Have a nice day,

O'Faolain


	7. The Feather

Wow. FF, what is this madness? I updated last week and I go to update this week just to find my last chapter was never posted! I'm sorry guys, I honestly didn't notice. I might have made a mistake as well with the submitting part. I'll post the next chapter soon, but for now here's the one FF skipped out on.

Hope everything's going well for all of you! Have a nice day,

O'Faolain

Chapter 7: The Feather

True to her word Fleur returned shortly after her departure. Pomfrey began fixing her teeth when the blonde arrived. Hermione watched in a small looking glass as they continued to shrink, with the instruction to inform Pomfrey when to stop. Fleur merely observed silently until Hermione gave the word. The bushy haired witch felt her face with a smile, happy to have her dentures back to a familiar state. She directed her smile to Fleur only to receive a furrowed gaze.

"Ze are shorter" the blonde said, approaching Hermione to get a better look. The witch closed her mouth and averted her gaze from the Veela.

"No they're not. They just look smaller because- because of the state they were in a moment ago. Compared to those fangs-"

"Non, ze are shorter. Zat woman made a mistake" Fleur huffed, her head snapping around the infirmary. The Veela looked ready to mount an assault on Madame Pomfrey. The only interception Hermione could think of was to grab the blonde's hand, dragging her back to her bedside.

"Wait! Fleur, this isn't her fault. I- I told her when to stop, remember?" Hermione squirmed uncomfortably under the Veela's blue scrutinizing gaze. "I just…wanted her to remove my overbite. My parents never allowed me to correct it the Muggle way and- and this seemed like the best opportunity."

"'Ermione, nozzing was wrong wiz your teeth to begin wiz!"

"Says the girl who didn't spend the better part of her life being called a chipmunk or buck-tooth." The jab was voiced before she could restrain it, causing the fourth year to avert her gaze from Fleur's. The issue was a sensitive one, one that Hermione had buried deep down. She was accustomed to showing a tough front, telling herself not to bother what others thought, locking away any feelings of insecurity to surface. Considering that quality she wasn't any different from Harry and Ron after all. Quite the trio indeed. "I just- I know I'm not the best looking girl. I've accepted it, but it would just help if there was one less- less- _oddity_. Especially after today."

"'Ermione, you are a beautiful young woman, wiz or wizout ze teezz." Again, Hermione thought of the implication behind Fleur's words. How- how- _romantic_ they sounded. How was she to take the compliment? Despite the confusion her face warmed at the words. "I wish you could zee what I zee." Should she ask? Should she even question the Veela on the matter? What was Fleur getting at by saying these things? During their dance in Marseille Hermione could have sworn with utmost certainty that Fleur went to kiss her. Would she do it again? Would she try and kiss her? If so, how would she respond? How would that change their semi-established friendship? Did she even want to kiss Fleur? "I want to give you somezzing" Fleur whispered.

"Oh?" The fourth year gulped, subconsciously licking her lips. A strange sort of panic entered her. It caused her heart to beat faster, her temperature to rise and a flutter to settle in her stomach. W-was she? The only thing Hermione could manage was to return Fleur's gaze, memorizing every speck in the young woman's blue eyes. Light around the center, but they grew ever darker around the edges, a mysterious speck of gold in each iris. As Hermione stared the blonde took her hand and, to the fourth year's surprise, placed something in here grasp. Shocked, her gaze dropped to see a small, bluish-green feather resting in her palm.

"A-a feather?"

"Oui" Fleur smiled, her eyes focused on Hermione's hands. "It is- it is mine."

"Yours? You…you have an bird?"

"Non, mon amie, ze feazzer came _from_ me." Her dark eyes widened once she realized what Fleur meant. Images of the Quidditch World Cup resurfaced in Hermione's mind, of those large, Harpy-like creatures.

"So you _can_ transform into that bird" Hermione gasped, analyzing the feather with new wonder. Her fingers brushed the bristles, mesmerized by the bluish-green color and the soft texture. It was Fleur's. The feather came from Fleur.

"Non, not completely" Fleur corrected, smiling at the girl's fascination. Hermione flushed, realizing how odd it must be for the Veela, having her pick and poke the feather. At least Hermione would certainly feel awkward if someone treated her hair in the same manner. "I am only one-fourzz Veela. I cannot shift completely. But when I become agitated or angered I do 'ave certain changes. When I was carrying you 'ere," Fleur rubbed the back of her neck, appearing almost shy about the confession, "feazzers came from my neck. Zat" the Veela took her hand again, gesturing to the feather in Hermione's grasp, "was one of zem. I 'ave not molted in a very long time."

"It's beautiful" Hermione whispered, still looking at the small feather.

"I zought zat it might 'elp now zat ze Leprechaun charm is gone." At this Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in question.

"How do you mean?"

"My muzzer responded to my owl. Or razzer," Fleur's eyebrow twitched in annoyance, "zent me a 'owler. Apparently your Albena was zuccessful in locating my gaggle and informed Muzzer before my letter reached 'er."

"That's wonderful!" A smile crossed Hermione's face, gratitude swelling in her chest. She would have to do something nice for Albena in thanks. "Oh, not that you receiving a howler is wonderful- I mean- I'm sorry you're getting in trouble-"

"It is nozzing I 'ave not survived before, mon amie" Fleur smiled. "My muzzer did zay zat…zo long as you are near my magic, ze effects of ze curse wouldn't apply. But az much az I wizh for zis, I cannot. Madame Maxime is wanting to prepare me for ze first task and wiz lezzons and ze tournament I do not 'ave time." The blonde gave a frustrated sigh, brushing her fingers up and down the sides of Hermione's hand. The fourth year was half listening, half flustered by the tingle issuing from the sensitive skin. "I zought zis might 'elp. Like ze Leprechaun charm…only better because it is my magic." A smirk crossed Fleur's face, causing Hermione to groan.

"Merlin, why are you so possessive?" Fleur simply replied with a smirk, agitating the bushy haired witch.

"At least I will not 'ave to zee zat disgusting zing ever again."

"How so?"

"Because I burned it." As soon as the words left her lips Fleur sprang up from the bed, making to leave.

"Fleur!"

"I am zorry mon amie, but Madame Maxime was expecting me 'alf an 'our ago. Keep my feazzer close. I will be in touch, I promise." And with another sly smile and a wink the Frenchwoman left.

Hermione returned to classes the next day. Though the feather operated similarly as the Leprechaun charm it seemed her bad luck wasn't done with her yet. About a week later an article appeared in the Daily Prophet on Harry, further frustrating her friend in his silent agony. What's more was _she_ was mentioned as well, though not as the boy's friend, but introduced as his girlfriend. The thought seemed rather incestuous to her. Still, the rest of the school didn't see it that way. Pansy Parkinson made it her mission to hound the bushy haired witch since the incident with her teeth, making unsubtle comments and negative jabs at her physical appearance. All Hermione could do was ignore her. The Slytherin weren't capable of any real damage. Her only concern at the moment was how Fleur would react to the article. She and Krum were barely mentioned, squeezed in at the end, and Cedric wasn't spared a sentence. The fourth year could only hope the Veela didn't believe the romantic insinuation. While the witch didn't fully understand her relationship with the Veela she wasn't interested in losing Fleur's attention or upsetting her into another jealous fit.

As Fleur mentioned Madame Maxime seemed determined to narrow the blonde's attention towards the first task, forbidding any sort of distraction. Despite this Fleur was rather rebellious. She would sneak Hermione notes during breakfast. The girl smiled at the thought as she sat in History of Magic, for once in her life completely ignoring Professor Binns' lecture on the Goblin wars. The blonde would just write of simple things: her likes and dislikes, her childhood, and sometimes admitting her anxiety involving the looming first task. Then Hermione would write back, answering questions posed in the Fleur's letter as well as asking her own, and then transfer the note at dinner time. It was there, in Professor Binns' history class, that Hermione began writing her response to Fleur for the day. No one appeared to noticed, assuming the bushy haired witch was frantically scribbling notes. The only suspicious one was Harry, seated next to her.

"Why are you giggling?" he whispered, leaning towards the witch.

"What?" Hermione jumped, her concentration averted to Harry's questioning eyes.

"You were giggling. You never giggle, especially not in class."

"I was certainly not giggling!" Hermione hissed, heat rising to her face. "Really Harry, who do you think I am? Lavender Brown with her multiple celebrity crushes? Really." She rolled her eyes the best she could, hoping he would drop the subject. He didn't.

"Wait, what are you writing? Those aren't notes."

"Um, Harry we should really be paying attention. This next bit is rather important, I'm sure it will be on the next exam-" Before she could prevent it the boy snatched her parchment, looking it over as embarrassment flooded her face.

"Is this…a love letter?"

"What?" Hermione gaped, her mouth floundering like a fish. "Oh course it's not!" she hissed, lowering her voice. It wasn't difficult to mask their conversation. A great many students were speaking among themselves, Professor Binns too consumed in his lecture to notice.

"_Dear Fleur, You needn't apologise for your lack of time, I understand the necessity of your absence. However, that doesn't negate my wish to spend more time with you-_"

"Harry! That's private!"

"You didn't tell me you were speaking with Fleur. Has her mother gotten back to her? Does she know how to lift the curse?"

"Well I'm sorry Harry, but you've had your own problems as of late. I didn't wish to bog you down with mine as well." Her response was rather snappish and regretted her short temper instantly. She countered with information, knowing he was simply concerned. "Yes, I've had correspondence with Fleur. After my _incident_ she, well" Hermione rolled her eyes, remembering the Veela's childish actions, "_replaced_ my Leprechaun charm." She withdrew the feather from her jumper. She had managed to attach it to a necklace, the bluish-green feather kept round her neck with a fine black lace. "She theorized it would counter most of the effects and so far it has, aside from a few flying books in the library and a bad incident with my chair in Charms."

"Has she told you anything else on the curse? In the letters?"

"Well, she, um" Hermione didn't really want to try and explain her confusing relationship with Fleur. If Harry thought _her_s sounded like a love letter, she did not want him to read the Veela's. Fleur was rather…flirty in her script. "We don't _really_ speak of the curse very often. We won't have anything until Albena owls with more substantial information. She's in France, you know. She managed to locate Fleur's gaggle."

"Then" Harry's nose scrunched in confusion, "if you're not talking about the curse what _are_ you two writing about?"

"Uh" before the witch could muster an intellectual response Professor Binns excused the class. Harry hurriedly shoved his parchment and quills into his bag, attention now focused on escaping the dull lecture. Hermione gave a stiff sigh. She wasn't certain how to explain her questionable relationship with Fleur to Harry. She herself couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it than friendship, but hadn't Fleur made that perfectly clear? What with the less then subtle winks during meals and the light touches to Hermione's back when passing, the Veela was hardly hiding her affection. But as obvious as it was to read into her actions Fleur had yet to voice any sort of declaration to the fourth year. Was she expecting Hermione to take the lead? Knowing her, that would never happen. Or was Fleur merely overly affectionate towards friends?

Before the fourth year could register the lapse of time, it was days before the first task. Fleur had been more than anxious in her letters and Harry was practically shitting himself, closing off more and more of his emotions from the bushy haired witch. In an attempt to relax him she opted to go to Hogsmeade but Harry would only agree if he could wear his Invisibility Cloak.

"They think I'm talking to myself" she complained as they walked out of Honeydukes Sweetshop.

"Don't move your lips so much, then."

"Come on, please just take off your Cloak for a bit. No one's going to bother you here."

"Oh yeah? Look behind you." Rita Skeeter and her photographer walked into the Three Broomsticks, paying the bushy haired witch no mind as they passed. "She's staying in the village. I bet she's coming to watch the first task" Harry grumbled. With much nudging and prodding Hermione forced Harry into the Three Broomsticks, assuring him he didn't have to talk to Ron. The pub was packed with Hogwarts students, the location being one of the most popular. They found a table and Hermione bought some butterbeers, slipping Harry his under the Invisibility Cloak. While the boy sulked Hermione worked on her S.P.E.W notebook, the short list of members irritating the bushy haired witch. She just couldn't understand how people could condone slavery of any creature. Eventually Hagrid and Mad-Eye Moody joined them, Moody having spotted Harry with his magic eye. After Hagrid's less the subtle message to Harry, the duo left.

"Why does he want me to meet him at midnight?" Harry questioned, his tone finally out of its passive aggressive state.

"Does he? I wonder what he's up to." Hermione mulled over the possibilities, but thought of another issue instead. "I don't know whether you should go, Harry…It might make you late for Siruis-"

"'Ermione?" Her eyes widened at the voice, spotting Fleur at the entrance of the Three Broomsticks. Even over the tumult of conversations she heard the Veela's clicking heels as she removed her muffler, a sly smile stretching across her face. "What are you doing, zitting alone?"

"Nothing- I-" Her eyes darted down to her S.P.E.W. notebook before looking to the chair Harry sat in. Oh dear Merlin, not here. Fleur joined her after ordering a butterbeer, choosing to sit closest to the witch. Hermione was just thankful she didn't try and occupy Harry's seat.

"Zis drink is surprisingly pleazant" Fleur said, examining the butterbeer. "I usually find Eenglish food distazteful." Hermione could have sworn she heard Harry mumble something under his breath. She silenced the boy with a swift kick to where she assumed his shin would be. She guessed correctly. Luckily the boy's curse words were hidden from Fleur due to the loud atmosphere of the pub. "What is zis?" Fleur gestured to her S.P.E.W. notebook, taking the small thing and reading its contents. Her nose scrunched at the abbreviation. "Zpew? My Eenglish muzt not be as good as I zought it to be."

"It's an abbreviation. It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare." Fleur's only response was her baffled expression.

"Elfish…Welfare?" Fleur muttered in confusion, flipping through the notebook. Hermione flushed. Whether it was out of embarrassment or frustration, she couldn't tell. "Yes, Elfish Welfare" she said hotly, but Fleur didn't respond. She merely continued to look through Hermione's notes on the history of Elfish enslavement and laws involving Elves. "It's an organization whose sole aim is to procure House Elves equal right."

"I 'ave never 'eard of such a zing. Zis is an Eenglish group?"

"Well, not exactly. I just started it."

"But don't 'ouse elves…like zerving wizards?" Fleur's question sounded innocent enough but Hermione gave an indignant huff, the words reminding her of Ron and Hagrid's persistence.

"They don't _know_ anything else! Even with regards to their feelings on the matter, House Elves are _denied_ any sort of compensation for their work! No pensions, no holidays, no wages, no regulation on working conditions! Just because they've been brainwashed into believing servitude is their _place_ doesn't mean that denying them fair opportunity is right. They should at least be given the choice." As Hermione finished it seemed Fleur still had a bit of trouble comprehending the idea, looking over Hermione's notes.

"Our 'ouse elves back 'ome never complain of any of zis" Fleur mumbled. Hermione's mouth dropped at the confession.

"You have house elves?"

"Oui. Two. Zay 'ave worked for my family for as long as I can remember. Zay complete ze basic choirs in ze house: cooking, cleaning, decorating ze 'ouse when guests visit…'owever I 'ave never heard of zis before."

"Well, I highly doubt wizards would put Elfish history in prominent books. Minorities tend to be invisible in that respect. Nor do House Elves realize this injustice. One of the best ways to keep a minority down is to take away education, which House Elves have no right to according to Wizarding law."

"Oui, I see zat." Fleur suddenly smiled, handing Hermione back the notebook. The Veela withdrew a small pouch from her coat, gathering some coins. "'Ere" she said, handing Hermione the money.

"What is this for?"

"Two sickles, non? Zat is what it said in ze book."

"I-" A huge smile broke out on Hermione's face, "Yes! Yes, and- and that gets you a badge as well!" Fleur merely smiled at her as the bushy haired witch shuffled through her multitude of buttons, withdrawing a blue one to match the Veela's uniform. The blonde accepted, but not without brushing her fingers against Hermione's hand. Fleur gazed down at the button with an amused grin.

"Mon amie, you should per'aps rezink ze name." Hermione released a groan.

"It is S – P – E – W! Not Spew!" The only response she received was Fleur's musical laughter.

"I am zorry we have not been able to meet" Fleur apologized as she put the button in her bag. Her hands once again found Hermione's as she began to play with the fourth year's fingers. "Madame Maxime is worried about ze first task. Zis is ze first time in a week she 'as allowed me out of 'er zight. But she will not be 'ere tonight. She 'as a previous engagement. Can you meet me by ze lake? Per'aps midnight? Ze Madame will be away for a few 'ours."

"O-of course" Hermione breathed, desperate to ignore how sensitive her palm was against the Veela's long nails. In all honestly the witch would have agreed to anything at that moment, anything to see the Veela smile with excitement.

"Excellent" Fleur said as she stood, still holding Hermione's hand. "I must go. Madame Maxime does not know I left ze carriage."

"What? Why did you sneak out?"

"I zaw you walk past." Fleur stepped towards the bushy haired witch, daring a kiss on her cheek. "Until tonight, mon amie" she whispered into Hermione's ear before heading towards the door. For a moment the witch was stuck in her flushed stupor, the usual questions of their relationship jumping to mind. However, another thought struck her. _Harry was still sitting right next to her_. "Oh Merlin" she groaned, dropping her head to the table. Not only that, she was _in public_. She dared a glance around and it seemed no one paid it any mind, but still, her interactions with Fleur had been private up until that moment. Especially since Harry saw _everything_.

"Hermione, what exactly was that?"

"I don't know, Harry. I honestly don't know."


	8. By the Lakeside

After a series of unfortunate events my laptop bit the dust. With exams, preparing to return stateside and the emotional drama of leaving my freinds in England I really haven't had time to post, but I really needed a distraction after my dog died yesterday when I realized I hadn't posted this chapter yet. So, with my flashdrive in hand, I marched down to my library, edited the chapter and it's here for your entertainment. I'll be posting more once I'm settled back in Oregon for the summer!

Hope you like it and have a nice day,

O'Faolain.

Chapter 8: By the Lakeside

"Hermione-"

"Don't" she said firmly as she and Harry descended the moving stairs, taking caution of their surroundings. Prefects were everywhere that night and with the Trespasser's Curse the duo had to be dexterous.

"Hermione, I wouldn't mind if-"

"Say one more word and I smash your foot." The two Gryffindors were proceeding to their respective meetings, her with Fleur and Harry with Hagrid. The boy chose to take the risk of missing Sirius, much to Hermione's disapproval. The plan was Harry would drop Hermione by at the lake, see Hagrid and retrieve her in time to catch Sirius in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione just hoped everything went accordingly, unconsciously brushing the feather resting against her jumper.

"But think about it Hermione, from what you told me-"

"I regret telling you anything."

"- your and Fleur's relationship is-"

"The nice thing about my relationship with Fleur is that it just is!" she hissed quietly, dragging Harry down a flight if stairs when she saw a lit wand heading their way. "It's the one thing in my life I don't question. I enjoy spending time with her, I enjoy our letters-"

"_Love_ letters" he corrected. At that moment she had the impulse to shout at him, tell him how much of a prat he was being, but their argument had to be kept in hushed, in her case hostile, tones, the castle eerily silent. Against her better judgment Hermione confided in Harry involving her _rendezvous_, as Harry had dubbed them, with Fleur and their rather questionable interactions. "I mean, do you- you know- like her?" The witch's face heated at the inquiry.

"I like her just fine."

"You know that's not what I mean."

"Please Harry, just leave it?" The boy gave a sigh.

"Fine. But you know I'd be fine with it, right? You and Fleur? I mean…it's a bit odd. She's always so haughty and unmoved and judgmental whenever I see her. I don't think she likes me very much." Hermione rolled her eyes at the statement, knowing exactly why the Veela didn't care for her friend.

Eventually Harry and Hermione managed to escape the school undetected, though a close encounter with Snape about sent Hermione into cardiac arrest. They dashed across the grounds towards Hagrids hut, only removing the Invisibility Cloak once outside the small home. After a quick goodbye, and another teasing comment from Harry, Hermione trekked down towards the lake, near the Beauxbotan carriage. The bushy haired witch was about to cross in front of it when the door burst open, giving her a fright. She squatted behind the large decretive wheel just as Madame Maxime hoisted her enormous body from the carriage. She could only watch the headmistress' large heels, horrified, as they moved passed and towards the dark forest. Hermione's heart only slowed when her thunderous footsteps disappeared into the night. She readied herself to stand but the door opened once more, this time revealing Fleur. She didn't understand why, didn't know what possessed her but for that moment Hermione resigned herself to simply watch as Fleur emerged from the carriage.

The Veela checked for her Madame but with the headmistress out of sight Fleur simply smiled. The fourth year's dark eyes began lowering, taking in the Frenchwoman's slim frame. Fleur, finally released from her uniform, wore form fitting jeans tucked into fashionable tan ankle high boots. Her upper body was hard to distinguish in the dark; however the moon was gracious that night and revealed the dark leather jacket Fleur wore for warmth, a decorative fur hood dangling from the collar. Suddenly Hermione wished she had reconsidered her wardrobe, her simple red jumper and loose jeans seeming inadequate to the Veela's fashion sense. None of her cloths flattered her as Fleur's did, complementing every aspect of her features: how the dark brown leather and tan fur hood amplified the Veela's blonde hair, how her jeans seemed to reveal every curve of her- her- oh. Hermione blushed, realizing where her thoughts might lead. She could only imagine what Harry might have to say about her wandering eyes.

With a final look about the ground and that damnable smirk on her face Fleur began her walk down to the lake, disappearing from Hermione's sight. The fourth year sprang up, suddenly aware how foolish hiding from Fleur was. She jumped from behind the carriage's wheel only to find empty ground, the Veela vanished. Her eyebrows furrowed as she moved passed the carriage, but the fourth year could not locate the blonde. Just as Hermione began to turn, thinking she might have overlooked something, hands seized her waist.

A high pitched scream ripped from her throat before she could muffle it. Her hands jumped to her mouth and she turned to see Fleur, doubled over in laughter. That smirk! That damnable devious smirk – she should have known! Hermione released an indignant huff, stomping her foot. This only seemed to spur Fleur's hysteria.

"I-I- You awful woman! You awful, conniving little Frenchwoman! I can't believe I fell for that! That-that smirk!" Hermione babbled, unable to contain her flustered antics. "And you! Here I was concerned for you, disappearing into thin air, only for you to scare the living daylights out of me!"

"Mon amie, mon amie" Fleur cooed in apology, however the small chuckles bursting from her throat told a different story. Hermione turned her back to the Veela, unforgiving.

"No! No, you can keep yourself company tonight!" Hermione yelled, only to clamp a hand over her mouth. Oh Merlin, that came out wrong. "I-I- mean you can walk by yourself tonight!" she attempted to recover but with that smirk she knew Fleur wouldn't let the matter be.

"But it is zo cold!" The Veela moved closer, wrapping her arms around Hermione's waist. The fourth year attempted to swat them away however if there was one quality Fleur excelled at it was persistence. When Hermione wouldn't turn towards her Fleur burrowed her face into the flustered witch's neck, her body still shaking with laughter. The fourth year stiffened when the Veela's face touch her skin, an electric spark issuing through her body. Fleur's thin arms held her in place. She could feel Fleur's legs and hips brushing her backside; could feel the blonde's soft cheek brushing against her neck, the tickle of her eyelashes.

Hermione tried to reason their situation: how one of Fleur's classmates might leave the carriage and catch them in the intimate position; how Madame Maxime might return any moment; how a the prefect might happen upon them while patrolling the grounds, but the only feeling Hermione wished to follow was that of the warmth bundling in her chest, instructing her to relax into the Veela's arms. So she did. She turned her head, brushing her cheek against the woman's silky hair and taking in the sweet smell of her perfume. Hermione closed her eyes, enjoying the small moment, graciously frozen in time for their enjoyment. Fleur hummed in content, the sound warming Hermione's heart.

"'ow are you?" Fleur muttered into her neck, causing her to release a small huff.

"I've been better considering I'm recovering from a heart attack." This comment only spurred a small chuckle from the Veela. "How you even knew I was here is beyond me."

"I smelt you" the blonde said simply.

"If that is your way of informing me I'm in need of a shower, Fleur-"

"Non, non!" Hermione tried to maintain a firm expression; however the blonde's laughter seemed to ease the tension. She rarely saw this side of Fleur, carefree and smiling. Fleur merely chuckled, grasping her hand before leading her down to the lake. She followed, her fingers intertwined with the Veela's. "I mean to zay zat I could…how do I zay?" The blonde continued to mull over her words when the answer suddenly struck Hermione.

"Your pheromones." Fleur's blue eyes jumped to Hermione's, surprised at the exclamation. The blonde looked away nervously, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

"O-oui. Zat." A smile spread across the busy haired witch's face, celebrating the small victory of, for once, causing Fleur to blush. "'ow did you know?"

"Um...Well, at the Quidditch World Cup when I went to see the Veela mascots-"

"Albena" Fleur growled softly.

"Oh please, Fleur, she's old enough to be my mother!" She didn't know if this was true, however didn't elaborate on the matter. "Anyway, apparently I was 'disturbing' the Veela with your scent. Most were in the same gaggle from what I gathered, apart from a few. Ellis told me it was because of your pheromones, and that um," Hermione paused, remembering the awkward conversation consisting of her and Fleur's 'relationship', "that you couldn't control it because you were part Veela, or some such reason." Fleur arched her eyebrow.

"Firzt zis Albena, now an Ellis? 'ow many Veela 'ave you been acquainted wiz?"

"Out of that entire explanation, that is what you gathered?" Hermione asked, exasperated by the annoyance in Fleur's tone. "Haven't we been over this? Yes, I met Veela at the World Cup. I had to find answers on the curse and I couldn't necessarily go to France looking for you. I had no way of knowing I'd ever see you again."

"Oui" the blonde responded quietly, "I am zorry. I have been inzenzitive again." The bushy haired witch simply rolled her eyes, giving the Veela's hand a tiny squeeze. They walked the rest of the way in silence. When their feet met the lake Fleur and Hermione simply began walking around it, almost meeting the edge of the Forbidden Forest when they decided to sit on the grass. Luckily it had not rained, though the grass was slightly damp from dew. Surprisingly Fleur kept her distance, situating herself away from the witch. The blonde simply drew her knees in, wrapping her arms around them, scrunching her small nose.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked. The Frenchwoman gave a small groan, burrowing her face into her knees.

"My pheromones" the blonde confessed quietly. "I- I zmell zem. I tried to masked ze zcent wiz perfume, but I _ztill_ zmell it."

"I don't smell anything" she responded sympathetically. "There's no reason to be self conscious. It's not something you can help."

"Oui, but it is fruztrating!" Fleur exclaimed, surprising the young witch, "and embarrazzing. I 'ate zat it juzt," she waved her hand in the air, as if swatting the odor away, "leeks. Ze firzt time I was twelve, 'aving a converzation wiz a young man I waz attracted too. I could not underztand what waz 'appening. I tried 'ugging myzelf; tried to contain ze odor, 'owever it kept flowing. I ran 'ome and Maman…well…" Fleur fell silent. Hermione thought to press further, fascinated by the sudden information. She knew next to nothing of the other woman but the fourth year provided Fleur the moment to compose herself, hoping for her to continue. The blonde did not disappoint. "Zat iz zey day my Veela properties began showing, ztarting wiz ze pheromones. Maman taught me 'ow to 'andle ze ztares and ze unwanted attention. As I grew older ze magic came and-" Fleur tightened her jaw and turned her face away from Hermione's intent stare. The witch averted her gaze, fearing her eyes unnerved the Veela. "I remember zey day, ze moment, when Maman told me I might never be able to control zis magic. Zat I am too emotionally unstable. It was ze most…'eartbreaking moment of my life. After years of expecting me to be great, of telling me I can do anyzzing, zose words 'urt."

"Why would she say something like that?" Hermione questioned quietly.

"Because, genetically, she is right" Fleur whispered, rolling her eyes at the statement. "Veela magic is driven by emotion. Veelas 'ave a different chemical balance to address zis need for control. As ze blood thinz, zo does zis control. Being one-fourzz Veela, zere is almost no 'ope of me learning to control zis magic wizout years of training. Maman worries over me, zeeing zat I 'ave an unusual amount of magic… I wanted to prove 'er wrong. I wanted 'er to acknowledge zat I could control ze magic. We 'ad an argument one night and I ran…like a child. I ran into ze woods behind our eztate and my emotions were zo wild…zat waz ze night I zummoned ze Fairy circle." Fleur finally faced the other girl, giving Hermione a sad smile. "It was juzt by accident. I 'ad only read of zuch zings. I zought per'aps you were a zign. If my magic could bring me zuch a wonderful new person per'aps it was not zo 'opeless. 'ow wrong I was." Fleur gave a harsh laugh, "now zis 'appens. It 'as been _months _zince we met in Marseille. All zat time I 'ad no idea – not a clue what I 'ad done. I 'urt you and it is my fault and- and zere is _nozzing_ I can do. I am zo _angry_ wiz myself." The blonde clenched her jaw once again, shaking her head. "I was zo happy to find you again, zinking zat we could continue on and... I am zo zorry, 'Ermione."

Hermione sat through the confession as if stunned. She could sympathize with Fleur. Hermione tried finding a counter-curse, something to rid herself of the bad luck but her hours of searching were to in vain. All of her accidents were so beyond her, there was nothing she could do to prevent them. Even simple things, like walking down stairs, she couldn't accomplish without aid from Harry or Ron. It was maddening being so helpless. She could only imagine how the other woman felt, living with this uncontainable force every day of her life. She thought of holding Fleur, comforting her as the Veela had done before, but a small flicker of insecurity kept her still. Hermione had felt this feeling before and had always heeded its warnings but sitting there, watching Fleur clutch her hair in silent torture, seeing the beginning of tears in her eyes, Hermione consciously threw caution to the wind. Rather ungracefully, the fourth year scooted closer to the French Champion, wrapping an uncertain arm around her shoulders.

"When you're here everything is better, Fleur" she whispered, the thought leaving her lips before she could filter it. A second later she thought how random it sounded; how weird the comment was and bit her lip nervously. Fleur allowed her eyes to meet Hermione's once more and the young witch couldn't help but make note of how the Veela's unshed tears enhanced the gaze, light flickering across the woman's blue eyes. The blonde attempted a small smile, shifting closer to the fourth year and grabbing the witch's arm that was looped across her shoulder. She kept it there, one hand holding Hermione's and the other running up the girl's forearm. Hermione suddenly registered the close proximity between them. She could see every detail of the blonde's face, could feel the fur hood tickle her neck.

"When you are 'ere, everzzing is better as well" Fleur whispered in a small voice, sniffling slightly. As her cheeks heated Hermione watched the Veela's eyes rake across her face, her heart stalling when they fell upon her lips. She saw the idea flash across those blue eyes as they rose to meet Hermione's dark gaze. Fleur shifted closer and the witch's mind began to panic. What was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to lean in? Lean back? Was she supposed to tilt her head? Which way? Pucker? Don't pucker? A thousand questions sprang to mind, all at once, but the second Fleur's lips brushed hers all of that tension escaped. Her mind froze as soft lips encased her own, and she was gone. There was nothing left but the warmth in her chest, those soft kisses and the small tingle in her hand as Fleur brushed her nails over the sensitive skin. She didn't know how long they sat there, breathing the same air, brushing noses, grazing cheeks, but suddenly an intrusive sound echoed along the grounds. Rushed footsteps.

"Hermione! The first task- its-" Both witches jumped as Harry appeared from behind the Invisibility Cloak, his frantic speech silenced at the sight of the two woman. "Uh…"

"Sirius" Hermione muttered, rationality returning. She chanced a quick glance to her watch. "Harry, we have 13 minutes to get back to the Common Room!" She jumped to her feet, much to the surprise and reluctance of Fleur, who followed.

"'Ermione, what is ze matter?" The Veela questioned, irritation obvious. Hermione rolled her eyes when she saw the blonde send a small glare in Harry's direction. She moved between the two, regaining Fleur's attention.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go. Harry needs to get back to the Common Room and he's the only way I'm getting back into the castle without getting detention." Fleur resigned her protests with a sigh, raising an annoyed eyebrow. Hermione wanted to laugh at the expression but another thought crossed her mind. She glanced over her shoulder, checking to make sure Harry wasn't watching, before drawing Fleur into another kiss. The Veela didn't fight, however released another annoyed sigh when the witch drew back. "I'll be in touch, I promise" she said with a grin before moving towards Harry, allowing him to throw the Invisibility Cloak around them. She felt rather pleased with herself, for once leaving Fleur in a smooth manner rather than the other way around. They rushed to the Common Room, narrowly avoiding a hissing Miss Norris, and Hermione left Harry to his conversation with Sirius. She retired for the night, thoughts consumed with Fleur and those soft kisses.

The next few days were stressful, especially once Harry explained Sirius' interpretation of the recent events; involving Karkaroff and someone purposefully putting Harry's name into the goblet. Still, she considered the dragon the most threatening foe within retrospect. Harry's agitation grew with every passing day and all Hermione could do was help where she could, though sometimes she thought his mood might be better without her. As hurtful as his constant snappish comments were she knew it was just stress. She couldn't imagine how he must feel, or the other champions for that matter. A dragon. Really, of all the dangerous, suicidal things a dragon was what the Ministry thought was safe entertainment.

Ron had also been fidgety. She could see the boys wanted to rekindle their friendship, however asinine pride would resurface and they'd turn the other cheek. Hermione feared she'd go bald from ripping out her hair if they didn't reunite soon. She couldn't maintain the energy required to cheer up both, not when she herself was biting her nails to the nub.

She didn't see Fleur before the first task. The only other champion she saw was Viktor who took roost in _her_ library. Really, didn't he have a library on his ship? Hermione hated his presence simply because his fan club would stalk him. They were so noisy and giddy she could hardly concentrate. She would feel sorry for Viktor but the seeker didn't seem to mind the attention. Maybe he even liked it, Hermione wouldn't know. Apparently Viktor hadn't recognized her from their brief meeting at the World Cup. Not so much as a small "hello". She shouldn't hold it against him, she supposed. He was facing a dragon. That in and of itself should absolve any sort of rudeness, it was certainly the case for Harry, and even Fleur, who hadn't written since their night near the lake. She assumed Madame Maxime had been tutoring her on how to handle the dragon. Fleur was in good hands with Maxime, she'd make sure her champion didn't venture blind. Even if it was cheating, Hermione was glad the Veela would at least have a plan. Harry didn't. Harry needed her attention and that was her only focus until Tuesday. He had perfected the Summoning Charm and all she could do was watch and hope for his safety; for all their safety.

On the day of the first task she found herself in the stands, seated between Ron and Ginny. Ron thought it a bad idea for Hermione to come – thought she might get hurt because of her curse, but the witch refused to miss the event. She needed to see Fleur and Harry were alright. When the first dragon emerged Ron's face couldn't have been more alarmed. Hermione thought to comment, tell him how idiotic he was behaving towards his best friend, who had to face _that_ monstrosity, but she didn't want to further punish the red head. She took his hand, intertwining their fingers so they could fret over Harry's safety together.

Cedric emerged from the champion's tent first, facing the Swedish short-snout. Hermione had to turn away when the Short-snout spat fire, curling into Ron. He wrapped a protective arm around her, telling her it was safe to look and that Cedric was okay. She shifted back when the Hufflepuff successfully retrieved his egg and the dragon careers charged for the Swedish short-snout. He had nasty burns on his face but he was in one piece.

To her horror Fleur entered the grounds next. The dragon careers released a smaller, greenish dragon that Ludo Bagman, commentator of the event, called a Welsh Green. As many times as Hermione muttered, "I can't watch, I can't watch, I can't watch" to Ron she found herself peeking through her fingers as the French champion underwent her task. She watched as Fleur sent a charm at the dragon, enchanting the creature into a deep sleep, though the snoring beast snorted fire through its nose. Hermione clenched Ron's hand at the sight, her other clutching the sleeve of the boy's jumper. The bushy haired witch only relaxed when she saw the fire only caught the edge of the Veela's skirt. It was quickly extinguished with a simple _Aguamenti _and Fleur claimed her egg.

Victor was third, facing an exotic red dragon, the Chinese Fireball. He aimed a well placed curse to the dragon's eye. The dragon squashed half of the real eggs; however Viktor too claimed his egg.

Finally Harry emerged from the champion's tent. Ron's hand tightened around hers when the Hungarian Horntail was released onto the grounds. Harry instantly casted the Summoning Charm and Hermione couldn't contain a victorious yell when the boy's Firebolt zoomed through the air and into his hand. As Harry rose in the air all of Gryffindor released a roar of excitement, familiar with their team seeker. Ludo Bagman's voice rang out loudest of all as Harry zoomed around the Horntail, causing the dragon to spit a breath of fire. Hermione's insides jumped at the spectacle and she nearly fainted when the dragon's tail managed to strike Harry. But with a little maneuvering Harry dashed under the dragon and snatched up his egg.

With that Hermione rushed out of the stadium with Ron at her heels, both wanting to check on their friend. She was nervous of how the boys would rebuild their friendship after so much time apart – how Harry could trust Ron again, how Ron could outgrow this inferiority complex, how they all could just move on. The second she caught sight of Harry a huge grin split across her face.

"Harry, you were brilliant! You were amazing, you really were!" It took all of her self-restraint to not choke him in a hug. But Harry's eyes weren't on her, focused instead on the nervous red head. Again, the bushy haired witch worried over the boy's reaction to Ron, worried that he might cause another fight – it's certainly what his face expressed. Her eyes darted to Ron.

"Harry, whoever put your name in that Goblet – I – I reckon they're trying to do you in!" Hermione cringed. Of all the things Ron could have said. He could have apologized. He could have asked Harry how he was. He could have-

"Caught on, have you?" Harry responded coldly. "Took you long enough…it's okay. Forget it."

"No, I shouldn't've-"

"_Forget it_."

Wait, what? Relief, confusion and a million unnamable emotions swept over the fourth year, followed closely by spurts of random tears of frustration. What just _happened_? There was no discussion, there was no closure, there was no explanations, no incentive – they just- just let it go? Hermione had been trying to get the boys back together for _weeks_ and suddenly they're best friends again? All of their problems solved with a simple "_forget it_"?

"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry said indignantly. Didn't these boys express _any _emotions?

"You two are so _stupid_!" she yelled, shocking both boys. Still, despite her baffled state she was beyond relieved and gave both a hug before leaving their presence. She might be happy for them but one more moment in that awkward situation and she would simply burst. Just- just- _how_? Before Hermione could begin to comprehend the complexity of male friendships she spotted Fleur on a bench, smoothing her burnt skirt. She had hoped to sneak up on her but the Veela's head popped up when she was five feet from her. Blasted pheromones. "Are you alright?" The blonde simply smiled.

"Oui. Zere are burns on my leg, but nozzing as bad as ze Diggory boy." Fleur hiked up her skirt, revealing a thick orange paste covering her leg. Hermione assumed it was Madame Pomfrey's handiwork. "Ze ointment….hmmm…ztings. But I am worried for my uniform." She released what sounded like French curses, still brushing the burnt fabric. "I will 'ave to buy a new one."

"What in Merlin's name possessed you to wear a skirt to fight a dragon?"

"Ze Madame's idea" Fleur rolled her eyes. "'Reprezenting ze school.'"

"Then she should pay for it. And I can't believe you're more concerned for your clothing than your leg!" Hermione sat beside the blonde, drawing her leg carefully onto her lap. The fourth year brushed aside the skirt to see the wound. It didn't look…as bad as the witch feared; however the wound was nothing to laugh at either. Still, Madam Pomfrey's solutions were exemplary and would heal the burn quickly.

"'Ermione, if you wished to peek up my zkirt, all you needed was to azk" Fleur said with that infuriating smirk, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

"Oh shush, you!" she snapped, fighting the heat that was invading her cheeks. It did seem a little odd, she supposed. "I was just looking at your wound." Fleur released a little hum of acknowledgement, biting her bottom lip and swaying her foot playfully on the fourth year's lap. For a moment Hermione's mind went blank at the sight. _What_ exactly was the Veela implying? Despite the question, Hermione already knew the answer and released a flustered breath. "Okay, you fine" she squeaked, dumping Fleur's leg. There was suddenly a nervous jitter in her chest at the…insinuation.

"Ow! Be gentle, mon chere! I am fragile." Okay, that didn't help the situation, and Fleur's smirk implied she intended to tease her further.

"Would you stop it with the…_innuendos_" The bushy haired witch hissed, turning her back to the other woman. Fleur merely chuckled but any further comments were thwarted by Ludo Bagman ushering the champion to him. Instead, the Veela took her hand and placed a small kiss on it before moving towards the group. Hermione exited the tent with Ron feeling better than she had in a long time…until she stepped in a flat pile of dragon dung. New shoes, ruined.


	9. Higher Authorities

Hello again. No, I did not die in a cow pie ditch in England! I have returned home to Oregon and, what's better, I've purchased a new laptop! Thank goodness for Labor day weekend sales! Now I'll be able to write without stealing my mother's laptop (not an easy task, mind you). In celebration, I've fine tuned this chapter for your viewing pleasure...hopefully it gives you pleasure...otherwise...that's a really awkward statement.

I know. I try to be funny. Most of the time it doesn't work. -_-'

I've probably said this a million times, either that or I've created a mantra in my head from anxiety, but I do plan on finishing this story. Life gets in the way, but I will find time to write.

I hope everyone is enjoying their summer. Continue to do so and have a nice day,

O'Faolain

Chapter 9: Higher authorities

December fell upon Hogwarts faster than Hermione would have liked. Classes resumed as usual after the First Task – continued assignments and surviving Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrwets which they discovered (the hard way, she might add) did _not_ hibernate. Events settled into a quiet routine for the season, the most exciting development being the young witch's adventure into the Hogwarts kitchen. The following day Hermione couldn't help but recount the incident to Fleur, of course having to delve into their second year's misadventures to explain _why_ encountering Dobby again was such a treat. She had a funny feeling Fleur missed half of the story, to enthralled in playing with the fourth year's unruly hair. She continued, resting in Fleur's lap. It was far too cold to venture out onto the grounds, so the witches commandeered an abandoned classroom for their personal use.

"What I found disconcerting was discovering Winky in such a state," Hermione continued, giving a small sigh. Whether it was from distress over the house elf or complacency brought by Fleur's long fingers through her hair, she couldn't tell. "I have no doubt the other house elves will see how wonderful being free is. Having Dobby among them will give them a positive example but Winky is having such an issue adjusting. Surely she simply needs time, right?"

"Hmm," Fleur hummed, smiling down at the fourth year. "Per'aps. It iz quite ze change. I 'ave never 'eard of a free 'ouse elf before, but per'aps zat will change as well, no? Change iz a slow, yet powerful zing." Hermione shifted to meet Fleur's light blue, a smile stretching across her face.

"You _are_ listening!"

"Zometimes," Fleur smirked, leaning down to capture the witch's lips in a quick kiss. It was still so new for Hermione: the close proximity, the kissing and now, apparently, cuddling. The blonde had all but demanded the younger witch lay on her lap. The position was growing slightly uncomfortable, stiffness invading her neck at the awkward elevation, however she was more than happy to oblige if that meant entertaining Fleur.

"A-anyway, I should go to the library," Hermione mumbled, sitting up from the Veela's lap and rubbing the back of her neck. "I wanted to research more on Elfish Welfare and Laws. It seems that's the only headway I'm making anymore. The library's resources are the best in the United Kingdom, however Hogwarts has _nothing_ vital involving Veelas or Fairy Curses."

"Oui, My maman may 'ave books to zend; however," Fleur grinned, rushing between Hermione and the door, "I refuse to allow you from my zight. It 'as been too long zince I could zpend time wiz you."

"Oh, really?" the fourth year mused. Fleur's only response was to raise a thin eyebrow, confirming her statement. "Are you saying you won't let me leave?"

"Per'aps." The blonde took a step toward her, taking hold of her waist. With a nervous jitter in her chest Hermione consented to the slight tug on her jumper, drawing closer to Fleur. "But do you wish to leave? Hmm?"

"I should," she retorted, however her mumble was hardly argumentative. "I do have things to do Fleur, as do you. I have S.P.E.W, and you have your egg. We've already wasted two hours hiding away, so we really should get back to our responsibilities."

"Oui, but do you want to?" Fleur leaned her head forward, touching their foreheads together.

"No," Hermione admitted.

"If I can 'ave two 'ours wiz you, zat time iz not wasted. If I spent ze rest of my life in zis room wiz you, it would not be wasted." A smile stretched across her face at Fleur's words. She leaned forward and caught the blonde in a kiss. She was hardly the type to initiate, however when the moment struck the young witch couldn't think of a more appropriate response. She wrapped her arms around the Veela's neck as the kiss deepened. After a few moments Hermione drew away.

"We should go," she whispered. She felt the Veela's grip relax, instead lightly gripping her jumper once more.

"Oui," Fleur resigned, releasing a small huff. With one more quick kiss they parted ways, leaving their safe haven behind. The bushy haired witch made her way to the library, as planned, however came face to face with a huffing Professor McGonagall. The woman appeared frantic, rather unlike herself. Hermione began to wonder why. She seemed to be searching for someone. It was only when McGonagall froze at the sight of her that she realized who the professor sought.

"Hello Professor," she said politely, "I was just on my way to the library-"

"That will have to wait, Miss Granger. I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't know you needed me."

"Not me, Miss Granger. I'm afraid this is a little more serious than that." Hermione's eyes widened at the words, her heart all but stopping.

"I'm sorry, Professor?"

"Come. I'm to escort you to Professor Dumbledore's office." The Head of House ushered her back down the corridor and up several flights of stairs. As she followed Hermione's limbs beginning to shake. What had she done? She, Harry and Ron had been rather law-abiding this term, disregarding the Goblet of Fire, and that wasn't even Harry's fault! Even so, if it had been their shenanigans Professor Dumbledore usually took up their business with Harry. Why had _she_ been summoned?

"Professor, I don't understand what this is about-"

"Fear not, Miss Granger, the situation will be explained; however this is not the place," the witch replied curtly. This merely caused more anxiety for the fourth year. Eventually McGonagall paused in front of a statue. She muttered the password and stepped onto the ascending stairs. Hermione followed, heart pounding in her chest as the door to Dumbledore's study drew within sight.

"Now Miss Granger," the Transfigurations professor began, turning to face her, "There are guests inside. We expect your best behavior as a representative of the school." The fourth year nodded and followed Professor McGonagall inside only to freeze the sight of a familiar face.

"Alright, Hermione?" Ellis sent her a grin, arching an eyebrow.

"Ellis!" She smiled and noticed, sitting on Dumbledore's desk, Albena's owl, Edwin. The old screech appeared tired, but happily gobbled down the owl treats the Headmaster provided. Fawkes, sitting on his perch, looked thoroughly unpleased. To her left, opposite of Ellis, stood another woman, one the witch did not recognize. It was obvious she was Veela. She stared at the fourth year with a very familiar light blue gaze.

Hermione's brown eyes looked from Ellis to Professor Dumbledore, shocked at the unexpected company. "I- I don't understand. What's happening?" Before anyone could answer, Madame Maxime burst through the door, shouting French profanities.

"Dumbledore! What is zis! I demand an explanation as to why you 'ave ze right to zummon _my_ Champion!" Hermione looked passed the large woman to see Fleur, a little sooner than she expect. The Veela smiled at her for a moment before she shifted her sight to the others in the room, her eyes comically widening as they landed on the unknown Veela. Hermione had never seen a more humorous sight.

"Maman?!" The fourth year's smile dropped. Suddenly not so humorous. Her eyes too found the older Veela, who appeared rather displeased with her daughter.

"Wonderful," Dumbledore announced, averting his attention from Edwin, "Now that everyone is here, why don't we begin?"

"Oui, Dumbledore! Explain what right you 'ave to call my Champion, who iz buzy wiz ze tournament!"

"Professor Dumbledore has every right when your Champion has cursed one of our students!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, stepping between Hermione and the large Headmistress. At that moment, Fleur and Hermione's eyes found each other. The room seemed silent, far away in their stare. The blue gaze held silent apologies and regret, clearly written across her delicate face. Hermione remembered the tears that night, by the lake. She recalled with vivid detail Fleur's confession and confusion and wanted nothing more than to hold her hand through the yelling and the chaos.

"Minerva, that will do," Dumbledore said in his usual calm voice, holding up a hand to silence the Transfiguration professor. "Maxime, I apologize terribly for interrupting Miss Delacour's focus; however the situation at hand is very delicate and requires her attention."  
>"Zis is most unfair!" Maxime began, but to Hermione's surprise it was not McGonagall who fought back, but Fleur's mother.<p>

"My daughter may be your champion, Madame," she said, a hint of pride in her voice, "'owever she is my daughter and a Veela first. Zis discussion will not impede Fleur's participation in ze tournament."  
>"You are welcome to stay for the discussion regardless, Maxime," Dumbledore added with a smile. "We will begin shortly, however are waiting for the last to arrive." Dumbledore gestured to the door, expectantly, just as two swift knocks echoed into the study. "Please, enter." Snape's greasy head appeared, gesturing in two very confused Muggles Hermione recognized instantly, before leaving.<p>

"Mum? Dad?" Her parents seemed relieved at the sight of her, rushing to her side.

"Hermione, what's this all about? I was so worried!" Her mother exclaimed.

"What are you doing here?" She implored

"Well," her father began, looking to Dumbledore, "I'd care to know, as well."

"Of course. I believe introductions are an order." The Headmaster gestured to Ellis, who gave the group a wide grin. "This is Ellis Bain. She is a representative of England's Veela gaggle, and previously attended Hogwarts. I believe you are familiar with Hermione Granger, Miss Bain?"

"Yes, Professor," Ellis smiled, sending Hermione a little wink. Hermione returned the kind gesture with her own smiled; however Ellis' smile dropped, shifting her attention to Fleur. Both Veela, Ellis and Madame Delacour, appeared alarmed, and Hermione felt it too. She whipped her head around to Fleur, who was sending Ellis the most seething glare the fourth year had ever seen.

"Fleur!" her mother hissed, also sensing the Champion's magic running amuck. "Do not be disrespectful!"

"It's alright," Ellis commented, sending the blonde a grin. "I understand. Bit hard to control, isn't it?" Fleur didn't comment. Her magic disappeared, much to Hermione's relief, but her icy glare remained.

"My, this is exciting," Professor Dumbledore interrupted before gesturing to Professor McGonagall. "This is Professor Minerva McGonagall. She is Head of Gryffindor house, to which Miss Granger belongs." The older witch gave a curt nod to Ellis, Fleur's mother, as well as Hermione's parents, to whom she was already acquainted, before Dumbledore continued, "This is Apolline Delacour, Miss Delacour's mother. She will be representing the gaggle to which she and her daughter belong. This is Madame Maxime, the Headmistress of Beauxbotans Academy to which Fleur belongs. Next to Miss Granger is her parents, Ulrich and Dianna Granger, and," the wizard looked around the room, as if searching for a missing person, however his eyes landed on the small screech owl sitting on his desk, "this is Edwin, an owl belonging to Mrs Albena Dostoyevsky, whom wrote me of the situation."

"And what may I ask," Mrs. Granger interrupted, "is the situation? All we were told was that there was an emergency."

"It would appear my daughter," Madame Delacour answered, sending Fleur a glare that put her daughter's to shame, "'as unknowingly instilled a very old curse onto zis," the older Veela's raked her eyes over the fourth year. Hermione felt probed and naked under the gaze, pulling her arms across her chest in discomfort, "child." _Child_?! The witch's eyes furrowed. _Child_?! A child that was not long ago snogging your daughter!

"Curse?!" Mr. Granger exclaimed, "What do you mean by curse? When did this happen?" He looked to Hermione; however she couldn't meet his gaze.

"Oui," Madame Delacour responded, "As for when, I do not know."

"How can your daughter _unknowingly _cast a curse?" Professor McGonagall questioned, standing by Hermione and her parents. She sounded rather affronted by the whole situation. Hermione was surprised and grateful for the concern, but wished she wouldn't attack Fleur. The seventh year kept her eyes to the floor as the conversation continued. Hermione couldn't help but notice Fleur's soft hands tighten at the accusations.

"Allow me to explain," Ellis said responded, garnering everyone's attention. "You see, half-Veelas, such as Madame Delacour and me, don't have the power of full Veela. The magic wanes with every generation, but what also wanes is the ability to control that magic. Fleur herself is only one-fourth Veela, isn't that right?" Ellis addressed Madame Delacour, who simply gave a curt nod. Fleur refused to raise her eyes. "For her it's almost impossible. It's rather amazing she possesses any magical properties of a Veela. Most of her generation only has certain levels of attraction – pheromones, a thrall – but nothing like this. I have a cousin who's one-fourth and she hardly looks Veela or displays any potential in Veela magic. And if that little outburst she gave was any indication, Fleur possess an alarming amount of Veela magic."

"I'm sorry," Mr. Granger interrupted, "but I would like someone to explain what a 'Veela' is and what exactly this girl," Mr. Granger pointed a finger at Fleur, "has done to my daughter!"

"Fleur's not to blame, Dad!" Hermione exclaimed. All eyes fixed on her. She ignored the heat rushing to her face, refusing to back down. "I-I'm just as much at fault as she is. It was an accident. My only focus right now is finding a counter-curse. I've been studying for quite a while-"

"A while?!" Mr. Granger exclaimed. She cringed at his volume, though it quickly reverted to a soft, worried tone. "Sweetie, how long has this been going on? Why didn't you come to us?"

"While I'm sure Miss Granger has a logical explanation, Mr. Granger," Dumbledore interrupted in his calm, dreamy voice, "and while I'm sure she will explain in due course, I believe it more pressing to address."

"If Fleur has this potential," McGonagall voiced, getting the conversation back on track, "then why is she unable to withdraw it?"

"The issue is that Fleur doesn't know how to control her magic," Ellis replied, "and it isn't a matter of teaching her. Veela magic is separate from wizarding magic in the simple fact that it's controlled _solely_ by emotions. Full Veelas have no issue with this, being of a different chemical balance to humans all together; however it is extremely difficult for half-bloods, let alone those of one-fourth, to master this self control, especially a seventeen year old teenager! Her hormone balance at this age is incredibly unstable, and it would interfere with any sort of training I could offer. I'm willing to try and help-"

"Zis training," Madame Maxime interrupted, waving a large hand, displaying the opal jewelry on her long fingers, "Zis cannot 'appen while ze tournament is. It will distract Fleur from winning!"

"And do you expect Hermione to simply live with this curse?!" Mrs. Granger jumped back into the fray, gesturing to the bushy haired witch.

"Yes, how convenient. Zis little misunderzanding 'appens when ze tournament is 'appening. I zought you were better zen zese tricks, Dumbledore."

"And just what are you insinuating?!" McGonagall exclaimed, sending a dangerous glare.

Hermione took a step away from McGonagall as she continued to quarrel with the large Headmistress, eyes still fixed on Fleur. The girl's eyes fluttered to hers, and she saw the look of frustration in the Veela's eyes. She knew this particular topic was sensitive to Fleur, and clearly the room full of yelling people wasn't helping her nerves. She tried to send that silent message: that everything was going to be alright. Hermione was trying to be strong for Fleur, however much she herself wanted to hide in a corner.

"Madame Maxime," Fleur's mother said in an icy voice, "Zis 'as nothing to do with your little tournament. Yes, I am proud Fleur was chosen, however her responsibilities as a Veela are far more important than zis game."

"Game?!" Hermione exclaimed, "Fleur could die! She had to fight a dragon, for Merlin's sake and you call this a _game_?!" And just like that Madame Delacour's narrow eyes fixed to her. The fourth year felt her mouth dry, but held the gaze.

"Hermione," Mrs. Granger said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Please, try to respect your elders." She was sure the Veela could see it: the nervous jitter in her chest, her shaking hands. Hermione wouldn't be surprised if those eyes of ice could gore her very soul on a pike and mount it to Madame Delacour's wall as a trophy. For the moment though all that mattered was Fleur.

"I- I apologize, Madame. However, I've been living with this for quite a while now. Yes, it is frustrating however it's nothing I can't handle. Fleur should focus on her safety first-"

"Tell me, child" Madame Delacour interrupted her, analyzing the frumpy fifteen year old, "Exactly 'ow long have you been 'living' with the curse?"

"I-" Hermione's eyes darted to Fleur, who met her gaze. She felt her parent's eyes on her, her mother's hand tightening on her shoulder. "A fair while, Madame." The older Veela was the most unnerving. Hermione felt the older Delacour would press further, and apparently so did Fleur. The younger Veela stepped forward.

"Zince zummer, Maman," the blonde answered, and Madame Delacour's attention shifted to the seventeen year old.

"Summer?" Mr. Granger repeated. Fleur shifted her gaze to him, giving a stiff nod. "Oui, Monsieur. We met during ze zummer."

"Fleur, why have you not mentioned this before now?" The Madame questioned, criticism laced in her voice.

"She didn't know," Hermione answered without thinking, "Neither did I, at first. I only learned of it once I met Ellis at the World Cup, once I had gone to stay with the Weasleys," she said to her parents, before continuing, "Fleur and I only met the once- I…" Hermione sent a hesitant gaze around the room, all eyes, including Egwin's dead gaze, were fixed on her. "This doesn't matter. It doesn't matter _how _I contracted the curse; all that matters is how to dispel it. Instead of nonsensical bickering we should be finding a counter-curse. If no one has any bright ideas I don't believe this meeting is beneficial."

"What an insolent child!" Madame Maxime exclaimed, shaking a disapproving finger to Hermione. Mr. Granger stepped forward, between her and the large headmistress.

"I'll ask you not to insult my daughter, especially when she's right." He seemed intimidated at her size, but stood his ground.

"This meeting," Madame Delacour regained the fourth year's attention, "was called to discuss how to break ze curse as well as free my daughter."

"I agree with your statement, Miss Granger." Madame Delacour stated, surprising the fourth year. "Arguing amongst ourselves will not solve ze issue. We must find a way to break your curse as well as free my daughter."

"Maman!" Fleur snapped, however her mother didn't break her stare with Hermione.

"Free your-?"

"I am sure by now Fleur has figured her clue for the next task." Madame Delacour's eyes shifted to her daughter, who confirmed the statement with a nod. "Ellis will be staying in Hogsmeade for the rest of the term and has volunteered to instruct Fleur on how best to control her magic. I am confident in Fleur's ability to schedule her time accordingly. If it becomes too difficult she will inform me, however I do not believe it will. As for you, Miss Granger, I wish to have a private word." Madame Delacour looked to Dumbledore, who gave a soft smile.

"I believe Madame Delacour's decision is fair. Hogwarts will, of course, help in any way we can. Miss Granger," Hermione shifted her attention to her Headmaster, "All of your teachers will be informed of your condition and will take precautions to secure your safety. Mr and Mrs Granger, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance; however I do wish it were under better circumstances."

"Hold on a minute," Mr. Granger said, looking to Madame Delacour, "What exactly do you have to discuss with my daughter that you can't say in front of me and my wife?"

"Dad, it's okay," Hermione interrupted. "She's just here to help. If anyone can help me, it's her." He wanted to argue. She knew her father was being protective but she gave him a soft look and he reluctantly withdrew.

"We'll talk about this later," he commented threateningly, however kissed Hermione on the head before he and her mother were escorted out of the room by Professor McGonagall.

"Miss Delacour," Professor Dumbledore began, focusing his half moon spectacles on Fleur, "Hogwarts is here to aid you in any way possible. Ellis will keep myself and Madame Maxime informed on your progress during the rest of the school year. If there is anything we can do for you, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Merci, Mousier," Fleur said in a quiet voice, giving Dumbledore a small nod.

"Now, I believe I have business to attend to." With that Dumbledore faced Edwin, offering his finger to the bird. The small, pathetic screech owl wobbled its way onto the digit, pecking at the Headmaster's hand gently. Dumbledore ushered Ellis and Madame Maxime out of the room, leaving Fleur, Hermione and Madame Delacour in the large office.

"Fleur, I mentioned I would like to speak with Miss Granger alone," the older Veela stated. Hermione was surprised to find Fleur's thin eyebrows furrow in rebellion.

"Maman, please, I know you do not approve-"

"I will allow you to explain that to Miss Granger. My discussion with her will avoid that topic, I assure you. I will be having a private word with you as well, ma petite." In a strange show of affection the Frenchwoman took her daughter's cheek in her hand, giving the Champion a rare smile. "But for now trust me and go. Your little English girl will be left unharmed, I assure you." The Madame flashed a smirk; one Hermione could only assume Fleur inherited from her, before the young woman gave a small nod. With clear reluctance, the blonde left Dumbledore's office. Both the Madame and the bushy haired witch watched her go, an awkward silence settling in the chamber. Hermione faced the older Veela only to find Madame Delacour's icy blue stare analyzing her. She felt the Veela probing every fault, every insecurity, and every doubt in that terrifying stare.

"Be at ease, child. I gave my word to my daughter you would not be harmed, yet you appear as if I might attack you." The Veela gave her a smile, however the gesture seemed more suspicious than anything. "You must have considered this would happen, that I might wish to speak privately with the girl my daughter will not cease speaking of. It is obvious you and she have a…close relationship."

"I-" Hermione stuttered. The Frenchwoman released a small chuckle as the fourth year's cheeks darkened.

"You thought I would not notice my own daughter's pheromones? You, how do the English say? _Reek_ of zem, child."

"Fine, you've made your point," Hermione countered. She wasn't going to sit ideally by and allow the Veela the opportunity to parade over her like a welcome mat. Though she could still feel her nerves jitter the fourth year straightened her posture, taking a deep breath for composure. "Yes, Fleur and I have been in a relationship of sorts, however we haven't spent much time together as of late because of the Tournament. We met when my family and I went on holiday to France and…I found Fleur sitting alone and we…chatted and spent time together. I didn't realize that by entering her Fairy Circle I would contract a curse. This situation is my fault as much as it is Fleur's. I sensed her magic that night and curiosity got the better of me. I trespassed onto your estate's grounds and that is how I met Fleur. Honestly…I would have done it again if that meant meeting your daughter." It took every ounce of her Gryffindor courage to hold Madame Delacour's gaze. The woman gave no indication of her reaction to the girl's confession. But suddenly, that same smirk lifted the right side of the woman's lips.

"You have potential, child. You are young…but zat is hardly a crime worthy of punishment. We were all young, once. You will learn."

"Learn?" The fourth year questioned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I don't understand."

"You will. You see, while Fleur is to be in Ellis' charge, you will be in mine." All mustered courage seemed to plummet to the bottom of her stomach at the statement.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do not look so frightened. Zere is much you need be aware of, especially if you consider your relationship with my daughter important. I am not proposing marriage but it is only fair you learn what it means to be in a relationship with a Veela. It also allows me the opportunity to zee if you truly deserve my daughter. Fleur is an extraordinary young woman and, I must admit, I have my doubts involving your feelings and intentions with her. I can see the confusion your feelings bring you. Zis worries me. But I will withhold judgment, for now. We shall zee if you deserve my daughter." The Madame withdrew three books from her rather large, fashionable purse and offered them to Hermione. "Fleur has mentioned your fascination with reading. Zese are from my private collection. I took the liberty of casting a translation charm. I expect you to study zem before our next meeting in three days time." Her brown eyes scanned the titles briefly: _Veela fairytales_, _Veela society and its matriarchy_, and finally _The Trespasser's Curse: History and Discourses_. "In zis one," The Madame tapped a manicured finger on _Veela fairytales_, "zere is a marked chapter I wish you to focus on. Use zat buzzing mind to find the clues you zeek. Read between the lines. You appear an intelligent girl, Miss Granger, I am sure you will find ze answers. I will speak with your Head of House and construct something that fits your schedule. Now, if I know my daughter she will be waiting outside for you."

"Madame," Hermione voiced. The Veela raised a thin eyebrow at her. "What did you mean…freeing Fleur?" The Madame's reaction was as sympathetic as Hermione had seen her. She released a sigh and approached. The fourth year stiffened as the Veela's long fingers reached for her only to take up the soft feather charm around her neck.

"I promised my daughter ze opportunity to explain, and zo she will. Ask her of the feather when you feel the time is right."

"Wasn't it your idea?" Hermione questioned, "Fleur said you mentioned her presence could ward off the curse. She gave me the feather to dampen its effects."

"Oui. I told Fleur zis, however I did not tell her of ze feather. While it contains a small portion of Fleur's magic it…the gesture has other properties. Dire properties. Properties and risks I do not approve Fleur taking for a child who has yet to establish any sort of trust. Again, I will ask you to question Fleur." With that the Veela released the feather, allowing it to fall against the stunned witch's jumper. "I will see you in three days time, Miss Granger."


End file.
